RA  GREENWELL  h 


OXDill!/ 


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Cornet  Strong  of  Ireton's   Horse 


DRAWING    HER    TO    HIM    NEARER    AND    NEARER. 


iOCUU  OB  CALIF.  LIBKAM,  LOS  AHGSLES 

CORNET    STRONG 

OF 
IRETON'S     HORSE 


AN   EPISODE 

OF 

THE    IRONSIDES 


BY 
DORA     GREENWELL     McCHESNEY 

Illustrated  by  Maurice    Greiffenhagen 


JOHN   LANE  THE    BODLEY    HEAD 

NEW   YORK    AND   LONDON  MDCCCCIII 


FIRST  EDITION  PUBLISHED 
FEBRUARY,  1903 


Copyright  by 

JOHN    LANE 

1903 


PRINTED   BY   T.  MOBET  ti   SON, 
GREENFIELD,  MASS.,   XT.   S.  A. 


TO 
MY  MOTHER 

AND 
MY  COMRADE 
STUDDIFORD  McCHESNEY 


CONTENTS 


Foreword  :  Overseas 

Chapter      I.  Night  on  Marston  Moor 

II.  Captain  and  Cornet 

III.  Roy  O'  Neil  . 

IV.  An  Hour  of  Truce 
V.  Ireton's  Judgment 

VI.  Out  of  the  Ranks     . 

VII.  A  Bible  bears  Witness 

VIII.  The  Generals  at  Issue 

IX.  On  Newbury  Field 

X.  Within  Donnington  Walls 

XI.  Watching  the  Loophole 

XII.  Held  Captive 

XIII.  Prince  Rupert's  Pass    . 

XIV.  A  Warning  to  Ironside 
XV.  In  the  Ranks  at  Naseby 

XVI.  The  Meeting  of  Friends 

XVII.  The  Parting  of  Friends 

XVIII.  Facing  the  Guns 

XIX.  Encounters 

XX.  Before  Bristol    .     . 

XXI.  Foes  in  Council    . 

XXII.  The  Opening  of  the  Way 

XXIII.  The  Barring  of  the  Way 

XXIV.  A  Woman's  Witness 
XXV.  The  Order  of  Release     . 


1 

9 

23 

33 

43 

56 

72 

81 

92 

106 

124 

139 

150 

171 

189 

208 

220 

229 

238 

255 

271 

282 

293 

306 

316 

330 


2137034 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

44  Drawing  her  to  him,  nearer  and  still  nearer,"    frontispiece 

Facing  page 

44  Strong  grasped  at  the  trophy  which  he  carried, 

wrenching  down  his  arm,".        .  .  .  18 

44  If  I  put  my  life  in  thy  hands  .   .   .  wilt  thou  be 

faithful?" 71 

44  Shall  I  not  say  it,  .  .  .  which  have  delivered  Ru- 
pert's Standard  into  Cromwell's  hand?"      .        137 

44  A  moment  later  ...  he  was  kneeling  beside  the 

dying  Royalist,"  .  .  .  .  .  193 

44  Get  thee  hence    from   the   woman,  thou   carnal 

sinner,"  .  .  .  .  .  .274 

44  And  so  they  stood  .  .  .  before  the  Church  of 
England  divine  in  his  corselet  and  spurred 
horseman's  boots,"        ....  304 

" '  I  am  Deborah  Strong,'  came  the  level  tones,"   330 


Cornet  Strong 

of  Ireton's  Horse 

Foreword :  Overseas 

NIGHT  stole  furtively  from  the  forest, 
and  the  little  New  England  town 
was  seized  on  by  the  darkness.  The 
houses  dimmed  and  drew  together ; 
shadows  blotted  out  the  wolves'  heads  nailed 
on  the  meeting  house,  softened  away  the  black 
brand  of  the  stocks  and  pillory  which  scarred 
themselves  on  the  heaped  whiteness  of  the 
snow.  And  now  all  was  engulfed ;  only  across 
the  pale  glimmer  struck  red  clefts  and  flicker- 
ing lines  where  the  firelight  forced  its  way 
through  chinks  in  the  rough  shutters  and  the 
shot-holes  cut  in  the  heavy  doors.  Within  one 
of  the  steep  roofed  houses  a  man  and  woman 
stood  together,  stood  the  closer  together  be- 
cause of  the  severance  which  waited.  Open 
before  them  lay  an  iron-clasped  Bible  and  across 
it  an  iron-hilted  sword. 

Far  away  across  the  wooded  hills  footsteps 
were  brushing  the  snow.     Did  the  moose  wan- 

A  1 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

der  there,  stirring  the  weighted  boughs  with 
wide  antlers,  or  were  the  wolves  abroad  ? 

" To-morrow,"  said  the  man  at  length.  "So 
long  I  have  been  withheld  by  sickness  and  cap- 
tivity ;  but  to-morrow  I  must  set  forth." 

"  It  is  the  Lord's  Day,  but  the  work  is  His," 
assented  the  woman,  and  laid  a  steady  hand  on 
the  sword  hilt. 

Her  husband  turned  from  her  and  began  to 
pace  the  homely  little  room,  warm  and  at  peace 
in  the  firelight.  He  and  his  fellow-believers 
had  built  the  house,  had  wrested,  rood  by  stub- 
born rood,  their  ground  from  the  wilderness, 
had  fought  back  the  powers  of  evil  in  prowl- 
ing beasts  and  lurking  Indians,  and  had  made 
an  abiding-place  for  God's  Word.  And  now? 
Overseas,  in  England,  his  brethren  in  the  faith 
were  fighting,  were  dying,  to  achieve  the  free- 
dom which  he  had  sought.  Before  his  eyes 
rose  the  grey,  thronged  sea-port  town  he  knew, 
the  richer  fields,  the  narrower  skies ;  and  yet 
here,  in  this  strenuous  bleakness,  he  had  found 
space  for  his  soul.  These  forests  in  their  au- 
tumn enkindling,  their  many-voiced  silences, 
had  grown  dear  to  him. 

And  through  those  woods,  now  bound  and 
mute  with  winter,  stole  sounds  which  were 
other  than  the  thud  of  snow  shaken  from  a 

2 


Foreword:    Overseas 


burdened  branch,  or  the  crack  of  twigs  in  the 
frost. 

"I  thought,"  cried  the  man  aloud,  with  a 
ring  of  sudden  protest  in  his  deep  tones,  "I 
thought,  verily,  that  we  were  led  hither  for  the 
purposes  of  heaven,  to  put  far  from  us  the 
wrong  dealt  and  endured,  and  to  build  a  broad- 
ening freedom  in  the  land  of  God's  choosing." 

"And  shall  not  freedom  be  for  all  God's 
people,  yea,  and  vengeance  ?  "  cried  the  woman. 
"  The  work  is  thine,  husband,  now  that  England 
hath  risen  against  the  oppressor,  and  even  across 
the  sea  we  hear  the  thunder  of  the  captains  and 
the  shouting.     Thou  wilt  go  forth — " 

"  And  leave  thee  ! " 

She  lifted  an  unflinching  face. 

"  One  tie  hath  been  loosed  which  might  have 
held  thee — our  son — "  her  voice  faltered,  de- 
spite her  resolve.  "  If  it  be  God's  will  wholly  to 
free  thee  for  this  work — " 

He  lifted  the  newly  furbished  sword. 

"  Seek  we  a  sign  that  our  purpose  is  accepted. 
Surely  it  is  well  we  bear  back  to  those  yet  in 
bondage  the  freedom  which  is  ours — God  hath 
raised  His  Standard  against  that  of  King 
Charles." 

Outside,  the  dim,  engirding  woods  were  preg- 
nant with  menace.     Shapes  slipped  from  tree 

3 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

trunk  to  tree  trunk,  silent  as  death.  The  narrow 
clearing  with  its  fields  of  maize  and  fields  of 
graves,  with  its  close  pressed  houses  and  shelter- 
ing stockade,  seemed  to  shrink  before  the  ad- 
vancing shadows;  the  wilderness  reclaiming  its 
own.  Yet  the  men  and  women  there,  lulled  by 
brief  security,  dwelt  in  peace.  If  two  spoke  of 
battle,  they  thought  of  the  conflict  overseas, 
where  honour  and  faith,  King  and  Cause  shocked 
together  in  a  grapple  whose  issues  were  for  the 
New  World  as  the  Old,  for  the  little  clearing  in 
Massachusetts  Colony,  as  for  Westminster  and 
Whitehall. 

That  night  husband  and  wife  took  counsel 
with  searchings  of  the  spirit  before  the  dawn 
which  was  to  speed  the  Lord's  soldier  on  his 
work.  But  dawn  was  slow  to  come  and  another 
light  was  quicker  to  kindle. 

From  the  pines,  stark  and  black  against  the 
snow ;  from  the  maples  which  had  blazed  to  a 
swift-passing  scarlet  and  gold,  and  the  oaks  which 
had  smouldered  deep  red  when  all  other  trees 
were  leafless ;  from  the  long  aisles  whence  the 
underbrush  had  been  swept  by  the  Indian's  au- 
tumn fires ;  from  the  moveless  shadows  crept  the 
moving  shadows.  The  morrow  would  be  the 
Lord's  Day,  when  the  drum  should  beat  the 
summons  to  the  people  and  they  should  gather 

4 


Foreword:    Overseas 


to  the  meeting  house  where  the  wolves'  heads 
grinned  in  a  frozen  snarl.  But  the  woods  would 
house  grimmer  beasts  of  prey  than  those. 

Evening  prayer  and  thanksgiving  were  long 
past.  Dense  night  was  over  the  little  village 
and  the  stars  were  steel.  There  were  two  who 
still  waked  and  prayed,  while  the  man  turned 
the  leaves  of  the  great  Bible  and  the  woman 
looked  yet  again  to  the  matchlock  laid  ready. 

Then  into  the  stillness  brushed  the  shadow 
of  a  sound.  It  was  no  more,  as  the  town 
watchman  gasped  once  and  sank  into  the  snow, 
an  arrow  in  his  back.  And  on  that,  other 
sounds  and  shadows ;  faint  padding  of  mocca- 
sined  feet,  protesting  groans  of  the  high  stock- 
ade as  it  was  wrenched  at  and  scaled. 

Only  one  man  heard ;  or  was  it  the  woman 
who  laid  a  hand  on  his  ?  The  soldier  who  was 
girding  up  his  soul  to  face  the  dim,  splendid 
challenge  of  Royal  and  priestly  oppression  over- 
seas, sprang  up  to  meet  death  in  wait  at  his 
threshold.  It  was  his  shot  roused  his  fellow 
townsmen  to  an  instant  grapple  with  destruc- 
tion. Every  house  was  a  fortress  and  every 
woman  a  fighter  by  her  child's  cradle.  And 
the  sinew  of  a  nation  was  in  the  stand  of  that 
handful  of  settlers: 

What  a  yell  was  that,  up  to  the  tingling  stars, 
5 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

tossed  back  by  the  reverberant  forest!  But 
the  defenders  fought  in  silence,  for  breath  was 
dear  as  powder.  There  were  little  runnels  of 
blood  now  in  the  trodden  snow,  and  there  were 
little  trails  of  smoke,  hesitant,  furtive,  resistless 
as  the  savages  who  had  kindled  them,  creeping 
among  the  timbers. 

The  man  who  had  vowed  himself  to  the 
Cause  looked  into  his  wife's  eyes  as  she  reached 
him  a  newly  loaded  musket. 

"  Stand  back ! "  he  said,  hoarsely,  and  even 
as  he  spoke  the  mortal  discord  volleyed  against 
their  defences.  The  thin,  tense  whirr  of  the 
arrows  countered  the  shrill  hum  of  bullets,  and 
now  an  Indian  hatchet  crashed  on  wood — and 
now  on  flesh  and  splintering  bone.  Somewhere 
a  child  wailed  and  a  mother  sang  clear  and  soft 
to  quiet  it : 

"  In  pastures  green  he  leadeth  me 
The  quiet  waters  by." 

The  woman  who  had  grasped  the  iron-hilted 
sword  gave  a  choking  sob. 

"  Thank  God  we  have  no  son !  " 

But  the  man  answered  as  he  crouched  at  the 
shot  hole,  "  He  would  have  been  a  man  ere 
now  to  stand  at  my  side." 

And  the  woman  covered  her  face. 

The  street  of  the  village  was  filled  with  a 
6 


Foreword:    Overseas 


mob  of  death.  The  settlers  sprang  forth  from 
burning  homes,  and  met  their  assailants  hand  to 
hand.  The  flames  had  quenched  the  stars  and 
all  the  place  was  a  red  dusk  in  which  men 
tasted  fire  and  blood.  Just  before  the  door 
where  stood  the  man  and  woman,  a  girl  paused, 
shrieking,  with  hands  flung  out  to  grasp  deliv- 
erance. The  soldier  drew  back  from  his  post 
of  vantage  and  set  a  hand  to  the  bars ;  but  be- 
fore he  could  open,  a  hatchet  dinted  the  wood, 
dully,  for  it  had  passed  through  something  soft. 
When  the  woman  looked  forth,  a  figure  lay 
face  downward  in  the  snow  and  an  Indian  was 
striding  on,  a  stained  tangle  at  his  belt. 

The  soldier  looked  once  more  at  his  wife,  his 
eyes  quick  with  the  fear  he  would  not  speak. 
He  slipped  a  knife  into  her  hand  and  her  grasp 
closed  firmly  on  it. 

"  If  the  Lord  summon  me,  He  frees  thee  for 
His  work,"  she  said. 

It  was  all  the  farewell  that  Puritan  spirit  suf- 
fered. 

"He  will  not  sunder  us,"  cried  her  husband, 
but  his  voice  was  sharp  with  dread. 

The  clamour — wrought  out  of  all  sounds  of 
horror  and  releasing  death,  out  of  the  mutter- 
ing roar  of  fire,  the  strident  voices  of  steel  and 
lead,  the  human  outcry,  the  shriek  that  was  no 

7 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

longer  human — the  clamour  wavered,  sank  to  a 
desolation  of  silence.  Only  the  fire  still  sang 
to  itself  unchecked.  The  painted  fiends  were 
falling  back,  baffled  by  the  staunch  defence. 
Yet  ever  and  again  one  turned  in  a  sinister 
lingering,  with  strung  bow  or  hatchet  poised. 

Man  and  woman  stood  together  at  the  loop- 
hole ;  confident  of  succour.  Through  the  nar- 
row opening  whence  the  soldier's  musket  had 
dealt  death,  flashed  a  quivering,  humming, 
barbed  thing,  alive  with  slaughter.  One  arrow 
— the  last — and  it  struck  silence  where  it  came. 

The  sun  was  a  blood  clot  in  the  east  that  day 
to  the  haggard  eyes  which  watched  it.  The 
snow  was  red,  too ;  not  with  sunrise,  and  on  the 
redness  lay  chief's  feathers,  broken  weapons  and 
ruined  life.  The  forest  awoke  with  delicate  stir- 
rings which  not  even  the  winter  could  quell; 
there  the  shadow  traceries  were  deep  blue  on 
the  whiteness ;  only  in  one  place  a  trail  seared 
its  way — that  too  was  red. 

The  people  were  gathered  in  the  meeting 
house,  constraining  shaken  voices  to  prayer  and 
praise.  In  the  last  of  the  smouldering  houses, 
above  the  dead,  stood  one  struck  free  for  God's 
work. 


Night  on  Marston  Moor 


I 
Night  on  Marston  Moor 


A  WAVERING  flash  :  was  it  from  the 
lightning  which  had  been  striking 
through  the  storm  clouds,  or  the  lire 
of  the  setting  sun  which  had  kindled 
so  on  cuirass  and  pike?  Standish 
turned  his  head  feebly ;  it  was  the  smoky  glare 
of  a  lanthorn  which  vexed  his  eyes,  and  there 
came  a  woman's  voice  above  him  instead  of  the 
grinding  crash  of  battle. 

"  Not  yet,  not  here,"  it  whispered  forlornly 
and  then  snapped  in  a  sudden  cry. 

Captain  Standish  struggled  to  his  knee,  grip- 
ping at  the  sword  hilt  which  lay  ready  to  his 
hand.  Round  him  the  battle  field  flung  wide, 
obscure  and  desolate  in  a  combat  of  moonlight 
and  shadow.  But  of  that  he  saw  nothing,  for 
close  at  his  side  a  woman  was  kneeling  and 
above  her  stood  a  soldier  of  the  Parliament, 

9 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

the  moon  drawing  a  sliding  gleam  along  a  sword 
raised  to  smite.  Captain  Standish  lunged  for- 
ward, striking  up  the  other's  weapon  with  his 
broken  blade.  Their  eyes  met  sternly  above 
the  countering  steel  and  Standish  knew  one  of 
his  own  troopers,  Reuben  Strong.  In  that 
glance  he  seemed  to  see  the  face  as  the  woman 
beside  him  might  have  done,  and  shrank  from 
its  lonely  and  fanatical  passion.  Then  resum- 
ing the  habit  of  command  he  began  an  order, 
only  to  find  the  words  trailing  away  as  his 
senses  slipped  from  him  into  dizziness.  As  he 
dropped  back  against  his  dead  horse,  he  heard 
a  harsh  voice  from  somewhere  in  the  dimness, 
raised  in  peremptory  question.  Standish  closed 
his  eyes,  with  a  curious  sense  of  rest  through 
the  giddy  pain ;  where  that  voice  spoke  all  was 
well. 

"  What  do  you  here  ?  "  it  asked. 

"  I  seek  my  dead,"  answered  the  woman  in 
a  low  tone  that  would  not  falter,  and  then,  as 
though  her  control  broke  in  the  utterance,  she 
hurried  on,  "  I  watched  for  news  of  the  battle 
and  the  broken  troops  fled  by  us — one  died  at 
our  gate — one  I  knew — and  told  me  my  son  lay 
here  on  the  field ;  but  there  be  so  many,  so 
many  dead." 

10 


Night  on  Marston  Moor 


"  So  many  dead,"  the  voice  echoed  her  words 
in  a  deep  note  of  affirmation. 

Standish  had  shaken  off  his  faintness  and  his 
eyes  sought  the  speaker's  face,  to  find  him 
looking  out  across  the  ranks  of  the  slain  with 
an  unflinching  gaze.  The  steel-keen  glance 
sheathed  itself  suddenly  in  a  great  pity  as  he 
turned  to  the  Royalist  mother. 

"  A  son  ;  it  is  hard  when  the  Lord  de- 
mandeth  that  offering  of  us  ;  but  you  may  not 
abide  here.  It  would  be  in  vain,  and  truly  we 
have  all  our  dead  to  mourn." 

She  turned  on  him  with  a  tremulous  fierce- 
ness. "  What  right  have  you  to  mourning, 
you  whose  sin  of  rebellion  has  wrought  desola- 
tion?" 

Once  again  he  looked  on  the  field  of  combat 
and  beyond,  smiled  strangely  and  did  not  speak. 
Marston  Moor  answered  for  him  with  the  judg- 
ment of  God. 

Standish  by  this  had  gathered  his  scattered 
senses,  and  rose  unsteadily  to  his  feet.  His 
leader  wheeled  on  him — 

"Hurt?"  he  asked  with  an  abrupt  gentle- 
ness. 

"  Nay,  sir,  stunned  by  the  fall." 

As  the  young  soldier  stood  there,  he  was  as- 
sailed by  vague  memories  of  the  clangorous  and 

11 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

desperate  charge,  vague  questions  as  to  its  issue, 
while  about  him  pressed  in  the  half  seen  horrors 
of  the  ravaged  field.  But  all  this  was  held 
aloof  by  a  single,  dominant  presence.  Standish 
was  alert  and  strained  to  catch  his  leader's  will 
and  do  it.  The  demand  compelled  him  to  quiet- 
ness and  strength.  All  beyond  could  wait. 
The  Puritan  leader  was  bending  from  his  saddle, 
questioning  the  woman,  who  answered  numbly 
— all  her  passion  spent.  That  done  he  beck- 
oned his  subordinate. 

"  You  will  lead  Mistress  Langley  hence. 
Find  a  horse,  there  be  riderless  steeds  enough, 
and  seek  the  farmhouse  which  lies  yonder  by 
Tockwith.  They  brought  me  thither  when  my 
hurt  was  tended." 

"  You  are  wounded,  Sir  ?  "  cried  Standish. 

"  A  scratch,  the  Lord  careth  for  His  instru- 
ments. Lead  Mistress  Langley  there  with  a 
trooper  to  escort  her  home  on  the  morrow.  Or 
stay,  best  were  to  seek  shelter  for  her  beyond 
Wilstrop  Wood,  since  by  that  way  many  of  the 
enemy  have  fled.  Return  hither,  we  camp 
upon  the  field." 

He  bent  his  eyes  compassionately  upon  the 
woman,  who  offered  no  words  of  thanks  for  his 
protection. 

"  God  comfort  you,"  he  said  "  as  He  is  abun- 
12 


Night  on  Mars  ton  Moor 


dantly  able  to  perform  all  things."  He  paused 
gathering  up  his  reins.  "  Verily,"  he  added, 
"they  upon  the  King's  side  fought  very  val- 
iantly." 

With  that  he  was  gone,  a  weighted,  unweary 
figure,  and  Standish's  eyes  followed  him  an  in- 
stant as  he  made  ready  for  his  work.  But  Mis- 
tress Langley  drew  away  from  the  hand  with 
which  the  young  Captain  would  have  supported 
her. 

"  I  cannot  go,"  she  broke  out,  "  why  did  I 
suffer  him  to  command  me  thus  ?  I  cannot  go, 
he  did  not  ask  my  will — he  took  it — what  is 
the  man  ?  " 

"  That,"  answered  Standish  gravely,  "  that 
was  Lieutenant  General  Cromwell." 

Before  either  had  spoken  again  Reuben 
Strong  came  forward  from  the  shadows  in 
which  he  had  disappeared,  leading  a  horse  by 
the  bridle. 

"  Here  is  a  steed,  Captain,"  he  said,  "  leave 
we  this  Canaanitish  woman — truly  I  thought 
her  of  those  which  spoil  the  slain — and  seek 
out  our  companions  in  the  Lord's  work." 

"  I  have  the  General's  command  to  guard  her 
safely,"  answered  Standish  curtly ;  it  was  need- 
less to  own  how  strongly  his  own  heart  moved 
him  to  the  work. 

13 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

"  It  is  trafficking  with  the  ungodly,"  muttered 
the  soldier  sullenly,  while  his  Captain  touched 
Mistress  Langley's  arm. 

"  In  truth  you  must  come,"  he  said  gently. 
"  Here  you  can  do  no  service,  and  who  shall  say 
even  that  your  son  has  indeed  fallen.  Come 
and  await  the  morrow's  tidings." 

Without  waiting  her  consent  in  words  he 
lifted  her  gently  to  the  saddle,  bidding  Strong 
lead  the  horse  while  he  himself  walked  beside 
it.  She  seemed  scarce  aware  of  what  he  did, 
and  he  was  stirred  by  a  strangely  reverent  pity 
as  he  looked  up  into  the  worn  face,  beautiful 
despite  the  rigid  mask  of  its  anguish.  Above 
them  the  moon  swung  low,  a  shield  of  steel 
tarnished  by  drift  of  trailing  cloud;  its  light 
was  flung  back  by  glints  from  scattered  armour 
and  from  the  marshy  pools,  trampled  about 
their  margins  to  horrible  ooze.  In  the  distance 
bodies  of  men  were  marching,  lights  wavered, 
flared,  and  now  and  then  came  a  throbbing 
drum  roll  or  the  lonely  summons  of  the  trum- 
pet. Near  at  hand  were  only  the  fallen,  piled 
in  heaps  and  swathes  on  the  trampled  harvest 
field. 

Their  progress  seemed  endless  as  a  dream, 
and  Standish,  his  brain  scarcely  yet  cleared 
from  his  fall,  wondered  which  was  truth,  this 

14 


Night  on  Marston  Moor 


ghastly  rally  of  the  dead,  or  that  magnificent 
and  menacing  array  of  England's  chivalry 
which  had  fronted  them  at  sunset  on  Long 
Marston  Moor.  They  had  conquered  :  his  com- 
panion's words  and  Cromwell's  silence  affirmed 
it.  Yet  he  could  feel  no  triumph,  only  a  dis- 
abling bewilderment.  The  Captain  had  given 
Mistress  Langley's  lanthorn  to  his  trooper,  yet 
even  so  guided  they  made  but  stumbling  way, 
and  often  the  horse's  hoofs  struck  with  a  sick- 
ening softness  on  what  was  not  earth.  Again 
and  again  the  Royalist  lady  paused  to  search 
some  dead  face  which  stared  or  smiled  back  in 
ironic  unconcern.  And  Standish,  watching  her, 
thought  how  scant  a  memory  would  have  been 
given  to  him,  had  the  life  that  day  been  trod- 
den out  of  him. 

At  length  they  reached  the  protecting  shadow 
of  Wilstrop  Wood,  where  the  surge  of  conflict 
and  panic  had  been  stayed  or  turned  aside. 
Beneath  the  barrier  of  trees  lay  huddled  shapes, 
riders  dashed  to  death  against  the  trunks  in 
headlong  flight  or  pursuit.  And  from  far  within 
the  wood  sounded  a  sharper  note  than  the  man- 
ifold groan  of  the  battlefield.  Captain  Standish 
moved  forward  and  whispered  a  question  to 
his  soldier. 

"  They  are  despatching  the  Malignants  which 
15 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

have  sought  shelter  there,"  answered  Strong, 
"  for  it  is  written  that  this  day  we  shall  smite 
and  spare  not." 

Standish  glanced  fearfully  towards  Mistress 
Langley,  but  she  had  not  heard.  She  was  look- 
ing back  on  the  battlefield  in  an  agony  of  horror 
and  desire.  Before  the  little  party  had  gone 
far,  it  was  reinforced  by  another  trooper  of  the 
Parliament  whom  Standish  pressed  into  his  ser- 
vice, and  a  stray  horse  had  been  discovered 
peacefully  cropping  the  grass  beside  its  dead 
rider,  a  lad  of  eighteen,  with  a  look  of  great 
astonishment  stamped  on  the  boyish  counte- 
nance. 

"  It  was  his  first  battle,  belike,"  commented 
Strong  as  he  led  the  horse  up  for  his  Captain, 
and  Standish  bent  silently  to  disengage  the 
sword  from  the  unpro testing  hand. 

They  went  on,  skirting  the  Wood,  and  swing- 
ing round  to  the  North  passed  between  the 
outermost  trees  and  a  field  bounded  by  a  high 
thorn  hedge.  The  place  was  drenched  in  a 
fragrant  and  dewy  dusk  and  the  men  advanced 
warily,  Standish  laying  hand  on  his  sword  and 
Strong  drawing  a  pistol  from  his  belt.  As  they 
rounded  a  curve  in  the  hedge  they  came  full 
upon  a  man  engaged  in  pushing  his  way  through 
the  leafy  barrier.     At  the  Captain's  challenge 

16 


Night  on  Marston  Moor 


he  faced  about,  not  speaking,  and  stood  there 
half  lost  in  the  nickering  leaf  shadows. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?  "  repeated  Standish,  and 
when  only  a  confronting  silence  made  answer 
Strong  fired  at  the  lurking  figure.  At  that  the 
fugitive  sprang  forward,  fronting  them  all. 
They  could  see  him  dimly  against  a  slant  of 
moonlight,  unhorsed,  unhelmeted,  his  sword  in 
one  hand  while  in  the  other  he  gripped  some 
dark  and  shapeless  thing. 

"Surrender,  I  offer  quarter,"  cried  Standish 
riding  up. 

In  reply  the  Royalist  lunged  at  him,  cutting 
through  his  heavy  gauntlet  and  furrowing  his 
right  arm  with  a  long  cut.  Stung  by  the  pain 
and  sudden  rush  of  blood,  Standish  half  wheeled 
his  horse  and  catching  his  sword  in  his  left  hand 
struck  fiercely  downward.  The  blow  must 
have  sheered  through  the  Royalist's  burden, 
but  at  the  moment  when  it  descended  he  flung 
his  left  arm  behind  him  and  the  sword  crashed 
on  his  shoulder,  beating  him  to  his  knee.  In 
that  instant  Standish  saw  his  enemy's  face 
clearly,  haggard,  defiant,  masked  with  dust  and 
sweat.     Another  saw  and  knew  it. 

"  My  son !  "  The  cry  rang  out  in  a  woman's 
voice,  vibrant  between  terror  and  thanksgiving. 
It  checked  Standish's  hand,  raised  as  it  was  for 
b  17 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

thrust,  and  in  that  hesitant  moment  the  Cavalier 
gained  his  feet  and  sprang  past  him  into  the 
open.  Just  ahead  of  him  lay  the  shadow  of  the 
Wood,  and  a  brief  and  perilous  safety.  But 
before  he  could  cross  that  narrow  strip  of  moon- 
lit turf,  the  other  mounted  Puritan  had  spurred 
across  his  path.  Desperate  for  more  than  his 
life,  the  fugitive  sprang  forward,  and  before  the 
man's  uplifted  sword  could  fall,  struck  up  be- 
neath the  poised  arm.  The  other  dropped 
heavily  with  one  choking  groan  and  a  clash  of 
harness,  and  with  a  shout  of  triumph  the  Royalist 
vaulted  to  the  saddle.  Standish  bent  his  brows 
angrily.  In  spite  of  the  cry  still  ringing  in  his 
brain  it  was  clearly  his  business  to  kill  or  capture 
this  flying  King's  man.  But  before  he  could 
reach  him  another  hand  had  snatched  the  work. 
Reuben  Strong,  unmounted  though  he  was, 
sprang  forward  and  caught  at  the  Cavalier's 
bridle.  Stooping  low  in  his  saddle  the  Royalist 
thrust  at  him,  but  only  cut  through  a  strap  of 
his  corselet,  leaving  the  breast  piece  swinging. 
And  as  he  bent  Strong  grasped  at  the  trophy 
which  he  carried,  wrenching  down  his  arm. 

"Not  that,  curse  you,  not  that,"  cried  the 
Cavalier. 

He  shortened  his  sword  for  a  final  thrust,  but 
the  trailing  folds,  shaken  loose  by  the  struggle, 

18 


STRONG      GRASPED    THE    TROPHY    WHICH     HE    CARRIED, 
WRENCHING     DOWN     HIS     ARM." 


Night  on  Marston  Moor 


flung  across  his  blade,  and  before  he  could  free 
the  steel,  Strong  had  slashed  fiercely  at  his 
bridle  arm.  His  left  hand  dropped  powerless, 
and  flinging  down  even  his  sword  the  Royalist 
grasped  at  the  banner  folds.  But  the  staff  was 
already  in  the  Puritan's  grip.  Disarmed  and 
disabled,  the  Cavalier  set  his  teeth  over  a  sob  of 
rage,  and  glanced  round  him  savagely  in  quest 
of  some  impossible  weapon.  And  his  eyes  met 
those  of  his  mother.  In  mute  obedience  to  her 
mute  appeal,  he  flung  his  horse  about  and 
spurred  away  along  the  dark  margin  of  the 
Wood.  Strong,  still  blinded  to  all  else  by  the 
sheer  madness  of  fight,  drew  and  levelled  his 
second  pistol.  And  Captain  Standish,  drawing 
rein  at  his  side,  knocked  up  the  barrel. 

"  Enough  done,"  he  said  curtly. 

Strong  looked  into  his  Captain's  face  with 
sternly  remonstrant  eyes. 

"The  World's  mercy  and  the  World's  honour 
do  enthrall  you,  but  the  People  of  God  are  a 
separate  People.  And  what  of  this  trophy  of 
the  Malignants  ? " 

Captain  Standish  dismounted  and  dropped  on 
one  knee  to  examine  the  prize.  When  he  had 
scanned  it,  he  raised  his  head  with  a  quick 
breath  and  glanced  round  at  the  darkling  and 
furtive  hedge   rows,  where  the    Cavalier   had 

19 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

lurked  in  a  loyal  cowardice.  Then  his  eyes 
fell  again  on  the  defaced  and  blood  stained  folds 
which  their  bearer  had  fled  and  fought  to  save. 

•'  Yes,"  he  said  gravely,  "  this  is  victory." 

As  that  same  night  was  greying  into  dawn, 
Standish  and  his  trooper  came  up  beside  a  biv- 
ouac fire.  The  red,  uncertain  light  was  playing 
across  Cromwell's  face  as  he  looked  up  from 
the  drum  on  which  he  had  been  writing.  He 
was  talking  to  one  of  his  officers,  a  tall  man 
with  swarthy  face  and  dark,  unfaltering  eyes. 

"Truly  the  labourer  is  worthy  of  his  hire," 
said  the  General,  "  and  yet  I  have  not  bread  to 
give  my  men,  and  they  must  drink  this  night 
of  the  pools  by  the  wayside." 

"  They  would  endure  it  threefold  for  such  an 
hour  of  triumph,"  returned  his  companion. 

Cromwell's  glance  travelled  across  the  field. 
Far  as  the  eye  could  reach  in  the  wan,  gather- 
ing light,  the  wearied  soldiers  were  sleeping 
like  the  dead,  or  the  dead  were  lying  as  if 
asleep. 

"  The  Lord  made  the  enemy  as  stubble,"  said 
Cromwell.  "  Surely  it  is  His  work  and  He  will 
answer  it." 

He  started  from  his  reverie  into  alertness  as 
Standish  drew  near. 

"  Have  you  put  your  charge  in  safety?  "  he 
20 


Night  on  Marston  Moor 


demanded.  "  It  is  well,  the  battlefield  is  no 
place  for  a  woman." 

His  eyes  turned  to  Reuben  Strong,  who 
stepped  forward  in  response. 

"  Behold,  it  is  a  sign  of  the  Lord,"  he  said 
and  flung  wide  the  flag  he  carried  at  his  Gen- 
eral's feet. 

Cromwell  looked  at  it  long  in  silence,  but  his 
fellow  officer  gave  a  cry. 

"  The  Red  Cross  and  the  Arms  of  the  Palat- 
inate— it  is  Prince  Rupert's  Standard." 

The  words  rang  out  sharply  and  were  swal- 
lowed up  in  a  great  silence.  Cromwell's  eyes 
were  full  of  a  deep  fire  and  his  nostrils  dilated 
with  his  hurried  breathing.  It  was  the  face 
his  men  followed  in  the  charge.  But  the  look 
was  soon  quenched  in  a  deepening  gravity. 

"  How  is  the  shield  of  the  mighty  cast  away," 
he  muttered. 

The  officer  beside  him  moved  restlessly.  "How 
was  it  come  by  ?  "  he  asked  and  Standish  briefly 
recounted  his  trooper's  capture  of  the  banner. 

"  In  the  King's  army  a  man  would  be  made 
knight  banneret  therefor,"  said  the  officer  half- 
resentfully,  "  but  no  such  power  is  given  to  us." 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Cromwell  absently.  Then 
he  started  from  his  musings  :  "  Your  Cornet  fell 
to-day,"  he  said,   addressing  Standish.      "Let 

21 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

Reuben  Strong  take  his  place.  Prince  Rupert's 
hand  hath  been  deep  in  the  blood  of  innocent 
people,  and  the  man  who  brings  me  his  colours 
may  well  bear  those  of  the  Cause." 

A  great  exultation  kindled  in  Reuben 
Strong's  eyes  and  he  saluted  in  a  silence  which 
had  no  need  of  words. 

Cromwell's  gaze  was  still  bent  on  the  great 
banner  with  its  sanguine  cross.  Suddenly  he 
looked  up,  pointing  eastward. 

"  Let  God  arise  and  his  enemies  be  scattered !  " 
he  cried  as  the  sun  rolled  up  over  York. 


Captain  and  Cornet 


n 

Captain  and  Cornet 


A  PETULANT  gust  of  rain  swept  up, 
dashing  the  armour  of  the  soldiers 
with  red  spots  of  rust.  Then  the 
July  sun  beat  down  again,  relent- 
lessly. Captain  Standish,  riding  at 
the  head  of  his  troop,  wondered  how  long  the 
pursuit  would  last,  and  whether  he  could  keep 
his  place  to  the  end.  A  day's  rest,  with  but 
scanty  food  and  water,  on  that  victorious  field 
of  Marston  Moor,  had  scarce  allowed  him  to  re- 
cover from  his  fall  amid  the  trampling  of  the 
charge ;  his  right  arm  moreover  ached  fever- 
ishly where  the  Royalist's  sword  had  slashed  it 
in  their  night  skirmish. 

Standish  set  his  face  and  pushed  on  grimly. 
He  was  wont  to  feel  so  himself,  so  more  than 
himself,  when  he  moved  at  one  with  the  army, 
and  this  was  the  Army's  day  of  triumph.    Crom- 

23  * 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

well  was  hurling  on  his  seven  thousand  Horse 
in  pursuit  of  the  flying  Royalists,  and  the  very 
roads  by  which  they  marched  bore  witness 
to  the  fierce  need  of  the  fugitives,  which  had 
spared  neither  horse  nor  man.  For  here  a  dead 
charger  blocked  the  steep  and  narrow  way,  and 
beyond  was  a  weapon  cast  aside  in  flight,  and 
scattered  in  the  dust  lay  spur  and  scarf  and 
bandolier  and  all  the  nameless  driftwood  of  a 
desperate  march,  and  the  bodies  of  men  cast 
down  useless  as  their  trappings. 

For  a  time  Standish  noted  every  sight  by  the 
way  with  unnatural  keenness ;  then  he  lost 
sense  of  everything  save  the  troops  on  troops 
of  horsemen  pushing  on,  a  flexible  bar  of  steel. 
And  at  length  he  was  conscious  of  nothing  but 
the  burning  rim  of  his  own  headpiece  and  the 
weight  of  his  Captain's  truncheon.  When  mat- 
ters had  come  to  this  pass,  Standish  summoned 
his  Lieutenant  and  reluctantly  yielded  his  place 
and  work  to  him,  dropping  back  himself  to  the 
rear  of  the  troop,  with  which  he  kept  pace  dog- 
gedly. 

Riding  thus  he  became  curiously  aware  of  a 
single  figure  in  the  troop  ahead  of  him,  that  of 
his  new  Cornet,  Reuben  Strong.  He  could  see 
the  soldier's  figure  erect  and  tense  beneath  the 
banner  with  its  blazonry  of  Bible  and  Sword. 

24 


Captain  and  Cornet 


And  now  and  again  at  a  half  turn  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  face,  rigid  with  repression,  yet 
with  the  dark  grey  eyes  full  of  a  secret  exulta- 
tion and  a  consuming  loneliness.  Standish  knew 
but  little  of  his  new  officer,  though  during  his 
brief  time  with  the  troop,  Strong  had  been 
noted  for  the  passionate  precision  wherewith 
he  fulfilled  his  duties  and  for  the  silence  which 
sundered  him  from  his  comrades.  The  Captain 
could  not  understand  why  this  one  figure  should 
so  stamp  itself  on  his  tired  brain,  and  a  half- 
resentment  mingled  with  his  dim  sense  of  a 
significant  force  in  this  soldier  of  the  Cause. 
His  fevered  musings  were  soon  borne  down  by 
weariness  of  body,  and  Strong  vanished  from 
his  eyes  as  the  dust  of  their  march  seemed  to 
grow  solid  about  him. 

It  had  gone  on  endlessly;  the  quick,  sharp 
monotone  of  hoof  beats,  the  jangle  of  steel,  the 
creak  of  straining  leather  and  the  stealthy  stir- 
ring of  men.  Then  an  order  tossed  back  from 
rank  to  rank,  a  sudden  halt,  jarring  Standish 
back  to  alertness,  and,  from  a  hedge  to  their 
right,  a  rending  volley.  Standish  straightened 
himself  in  his  saddle,  with  an  odd,  soldierly  sat- 
isfaction in  their  opponents'  readiness.  Broken 
and  hunted  as  they  were,  the  Royalists  had  not 
neglected   to   safeguard   their   retreat,    and   it 

25 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

would  be  a  deadly  matter  to  force  a  way  by 
those  narrow  passes  edged  with  musketry,  and 
find  perhaps  Rupert  standing  desperately  at 
bay  beyond  them.  He  knew  the  pursuit  was 
checked,  that  indeed  the  Cavaliers  had  had  too 
great  a  start,  and  he  was  ready  for  the  com- 
mand which  followed.  Ensued  a  moment's 
orderly  tumult  while  the  ranks  wheeled  and 
re-formed  and  the  dragoons  were  hastened  up 
to  silence  the  enemy's  fire.  But  as  they  re- 
traced their  march  Standish  saw  Cornet  Strong's 
face  stern  and  baffled,  and  caught  his  muttered 
protest,  "  Is  God  no  more  our  Captain,  that  we 
turn?" 

Standish  recalled  but  little  of  the  hours  of 
easier  riding  that  followed ;  the  steep  and  nar- 
row roads,  the  wide  flung  glimpses  of  harvest 
fields  and  furze-clad  uplands.  Once  a  halt  was 
called  and  someone  pressed  a  shallow  cup  of 
water  into  his  hand.  He  wondered  whence  it 
could  come  on  that  thirsty  march.  Thereafter 
all  was  a  troubled  dream  of  motion,  while  the 
sounds  about  beat  wave-like  upon  him  or  dulled 
to  a  murmurous  hush. 

When  Standish  came  to  himself  he  was  ly- 
ing at  his  ease  in  his  tent,  while  the  sunlight 
made  a  triangle  on  the  ground.  How  long  had 
he  been  there,  he  wondered,  and  who  had  cared 

26 


Captain  and  Cornet 


for  him,  for  he  recalled  deft  and  gentle  tend- 
ance, which  was  not  that  of  the  hurried  surgeon 
of  the  regiment.  Someone  had  been  with  him 
in  the  night-watches,  for  he  had  roused  once  in 
a  sudden  horror  of  the  charge  crashing  over 
him,  and  a  hand  had  grasped  his,  had  upheld 
him  till  the  panic  of  dreams  had  swept  by. 
The  memory  angered  him  now,  or  had  the  help 
after  all  been  as  unreal  as  the  terror  ?  No,  he 
was  sure  that  there  had  been  a  presence  close 
at  hand,  and  that  once  he  had  heard  a  long 
sigh  of  utter  weariness,  and  once  a  broken 
prayer — not  a  prayer  of  exultation,  such  as 
should  have  arisen  from  the  victorious  camp. 

While  he  lay  trying  to  fit  together  his  broken 
recollections,  a  shadow  fell  across  the  sunlight 
and  a  man  paused  at  the  tent  door.  The  new- 
comer was  evidently  of  the  straitest  sect  of  the 
Puritans.  His  black  hair,  which  grew  down  in 
a  peak  on  the  forehead,  was  clipped  so  closely 
that  it  looked  like  a  velvet  cap,  and  threw  into 
startling  relief  the  pallor  of  his  long  and  cadav- 
erous face.  Above  his  small,  keen  eyes  his 
black  eyebrows  slanted  up  at  the  corners,  im- 
parting a  hint  of  mockery  to  his  severe  aspect. 

"  You,  Lieutenant !  "  Standish  hailed  him, 
"Where  are  we,  and  has  York  fallen?" 

"  Not  yet,"  returned  the  other,  "  but  it  must 
27 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

be  ours  within  three  days.     You  will  be  with 
us  for  the  gathering  up  of  sheaves." 

Standish  drew  deep  breath,  "  Then  the  great 
victory  at  least  was  no  dream?" 

"Most  living  truth,"  replied  the  Lieutenant 
soberly.  "  I  walked  across  the  battlefield  on  the 
morrow  of  the  fight.  The  whiteness  of  the 
stripped  bodies  showed  how  many  of  the  King's 
gentlemen  were  fallen."  He  turned  his  inquiring 
eyes  on  his  superior  and  answered  an  unspoken 
thought,  "  Why  should  we  shun  to  look  upon 
that  which  we  do  ?  " 

Standish  answered  only  by  another  question, 
"  Have  I  to  thank  you,  Flynt,  for  care  of  me 
whilst  that  I  have  lain  useless  ?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Flynt,  "  I  have  been  keep- 
ing your  troop  in  the  way  of  righteousness. 
Our  new  fellow  officer,  Reuben  Strong,  has 
been  with  you  much.  'Tis  a  strange  thing," 
he  added  reflectively,  "  that  Cornet  Strong 
loves  to  take  the  chirurgeons'  work  off  their 
hands  when  he  is  not  making  more  work  for 
them." 

A  few  moments  later  the  two  men  stood  to- 
gether before  the  tent,  and  Standish  with  a  cu- 
rious stir  at  his  heart  was  looking  on  the  sullen, 
resistant  walls  of  York,  which  could  not  long 
resist. 

28 


Captain  and  Cornet 


"  They  made  a  good  defence  whilst  they  had 
hope  of  relief,"  he  said,  his  eyes  on  the  Royal 
Standard  which  was  still  tossing  its  blazonries 
defiantly  above  the  Castle  keep. 

Flynt  glanced  at  him  sharply,  "  You  have  re- 
lentings  towards  your  enemies,  that  is  the  weak- 
ness of  the  natural  man." 

"  I  profess  no  saintship,"  answered  Standish 
hotly,  "  and  all  which  are  English  are  my  kin- 
dred. I  have  none  other."  With  the  last 
words  his  voice  dropped  to  a  note  of  resentful 
sadness. 

"It  is  a  doubtful  bereavement,"  answered 
Flynt,  "  for  well  nigh  every  house  in  these  days 
is  a  house  divided  against  itself.  You  need  not 
fear  finding  your  kinsmen  in  the  ranks  of  the 
enemy." 

••  I  know  not  where  I  might  find  them,"  re- 
turned Standish  with  a  sigh,  "  the  very  name  I 
bear  is  not  mine  own,  yet  I  will  bring  honour 
to  it,"  and  his  face  lighted  suddenly  showing 
him  still  a  youth  for  all  his  manhood. 

"  Honour,  'tis  a  word  of  the  Malignants,"  com- 
mented Flynt  drily.    "  Is  it  for  that  you  fight  ?  " 

"  Nay,  but  for  the  people  of  England  and 
their  liberties." 

"  And  so  Major  Ireton  might  speak,"  retorted 
the  Lieutenant,  "  but  ask  our  new  Cornet  and 

29 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

he  will  tell  you  that  he  fights  at  the  will  and 
word  of  the  Most  High  God." 

He  glanced  up  quickly  as  an  officer  came 
riding  slowly  along  one  of  the  lanes  of  the 
Camp,  greeted  by  a  stern,  subdued  murmur 
from  the  soldiers. 

"  Behold, "  said  Flynt,  scanning  the  delicate, 
thoughtful  face,  "  there  is  Colonel  Lambert,  who 
went  into  the  City  with  terms.  I  take  it  we 
shall  have  the  Royal  Standard  down  ere  long 
and  our  Generals  holding  their  Councils  of 
War  within  the  City.     Where  the  carcass  is — " 

"  The  text  is  ill-timed,  Lieutenant,"  the  Cap- 
tain checked  him  sharply. 

Flynt's  slanting  eyebrows  lifted,  "  All  times 
are  seasonable  for  the  citing  of  Holy  Writ. 
Well,  we  have  had  a  mighty  victory  and  slain 
our  thousands.  I  marvel  will  the  Generals 
tarry  praising  God  therefor,  till  that  there  be 
need  for  another." 

The  road  from  the  Mickle  Gate  was  hedged 
for  a  mile  with  steel  as  the  soldiers  of  Fairfax, 
Manchester  and  Leven  lined  the  way  down 
which  the  garrison  of  York  must  pass.  It  was 
high  noon  when  the  Royalists  marched  out  with 
all  the  honours  of  war  from  the  shaken  walls  and 
tottering  spires  of  the  proud  Minster  City, 
where  the  bonfires  had  but  just  sunk  to  ashes 

30 


Captain  and  Cornet 


which  had  heralded  Rupert's  coming  and  re- 
lief. 

Standish  and  his  men  were  stationed  close 
to  the  walls  of  the  City,  and  as  the  Cavaliers 
marched  past,  flaunting  their  gayest  attire  and 
tossing  along  the  ranks  their  most  reckless 
laughter,  the  Captain  became  aware  of  a  strain- 
ing unrest  among  the  soldiers.  It  was  sternly 
controlled  for  long,  but  as  hour  after  hour 
dragged  by,  and  the  slanting  sun  brightened 
on  the  braveries  of  the  Cavaliers  and  burnished 
the  iron  array  of  the  Puritans,  the  hostile  stir 
increased.  There  came  a  little  eddy  of  confu- 
sion far  along  the  line,  the  ranks  curved  and  bent, 
and  for  a  moment  all  was  turbulence.  The 
Royalists  were  pressed  back,  their  line  of 
march  broken,  weapons  and  possessions  snatched 
at  by  the  victorious  soldiers  in  an  instant's 
mimic  and  ignominious  battle. 

Stung  with  angry  shame  Standish  spurred 
forward.  His  own  men  obeyed  his  voice  and 
the  long  habit  of  discipline  and  stood  rigid. 
The  other  troops  were  quickly  driven  back  into 
control,  but  the  instant's  melee  all  but  cost  the 
young  Captain  dear.  As  he  pushed  his  way 
into  a  knot  of  struggling  men,  a  Royalist  offi- 
cer, his  hat  rakishly  atilt  above  a  bandaged  fore- 
head, struck  at  him  from  the  side.     Another 

31 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

sword  parried  the  blow  and  snapped  under  it, 
and  turning  at  the  crash  of  shivered  steel, 
Standish  found  himself  knee  to  knee  with  Cor- 
net Strong. 

"  'Tis  like  I  owe  you  my  life,"  he  said  as  they 
reined  back  from  the  press. 

"  You  owe  me  naught,  Captain,"  answered  the 
other  sombrely,  "  for  I  am  but  an  instrument, 
even  as  this,"  and  he  dropped  his  useless  hilt. 

"  Lo,  yon  the  Malignants  have  passed ;  it  is 
for  the  people  of  the  Lord  to  enter  and  take 
possession." 

The  first  action  of  the  three  victorious  Gen- 
erals was  to  offer  up  solemn  thanksgiving  in 
the  great  Cathedral.  There  was  no  such  pomp 
of  ceremonial  as  the  Royalists  had  loved,  and 
the  church  itself  was  defaced  by  war,  the  rich 
stained  glass  shattered  and  the  clear,  uncoloured 
daylight  streaming  through.  That  austere 
brightness  fell  on  the  ranks  on  ranks  of  armed 
men,  their  faces  exultant  with  a  great  victory 
and  solemn  under  an  awful  burden. 

"  Who  will  bring  me  into  the  strong  city  ?  " 
cried  the  preacher,  and  the  deep,  responsive 
murmur  of  the  Ironsides  affirmed  that  it  was 
indeed  the  God  of  Hosts. 


Roy  a  Neil 


m 

Roy  O' Neil 


THE  August  sun  flung  a  dazzle  of  light 
upon  a  swift-moving  troop  of  Parlia- 
ment soldiers.  Foremost  of  all  was 
Cornet  Strong,  hand  on  pistol  holster 
and  eyes  straining  along  the  level, 
lessening  road.  Before  him  whirled  a  cloud  of 
dust,  circling  about  two  riders,  who  kept  at  panic 
speed  and  had  answered  Strong's  challenge  by 
a  shot. 

The  Puritans  were  on  their  way  from  Lin- 
coln where  Manchester's  army  now  lay  inactive 
— inactive  while  Prince  Rupert  rallied  his  men 
to  the  Standard  of  their  King.  And  before 
them  lay  Newark,  that  gallant  Royalist  strong- 
hold. They  were  to  quarter  at  a  small  hamlet 
on  the  way,  there  to  be  joined  by  Captain 
Standish  and  later  by  Major  Ire  ton  himself,  ab- 
sent on  a  perilous  reconnaissance.  Grave  in 
C  33 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

truth  might  be  the  hazard,  if  the  swift  horse- 
man in  advance  should  bear  word  to  the  Newark 
garrison  of  the  Puritans'  nearness.  Strong 
clenched  his  teeth  and  pressed  onward,  onward 
till  at  length  he  could  send  a  bullet  into  the 
eddy  of  dust  before  him.  There  followed  a  cry, 
a  sudden  crash  and  a  figure  shook  itself  free, 
confronting  the  pursuers.  And  the  other  flying 
rider  wheeled  sharply  about  and  sprang  to  the 
ground  at  her  companion's  side.  The  two  stood 
by  their  dead  horse,  and  in  a  defiant  silence 
faced  the  little  troop  of  Puritans,  which  showed 
all  steel  and  set  purpose.  There  was  no  need 
of  question  or  answer  to  proclaim  the  kinship 
of  the  wayfarers.  Brother  and  sister  were  curi- 
ously like,  though  the  girl's  dark  hair,  loosened 
from  her  hood,  hung  fine  and  straight  as  silk 
about  a  mutinous,  wistful  face,  while  the  youth 
wore  his  brown  locks  curled  with  Cavalier  nicety. 
From  under  the  dark  brows  of  both  shone  the 
same  sword-blue  eyes. 

"Sirs,"  began  the  Royalist,  "by  what  war- 
rant, I  pray  you,  do  ye  stay  peaceable  travellers 
on  the  high  road  ?  " 

"Peaceable,"  the  Parliament  officer  flung 
back  the  word,  though  he  eyed  the  comely  pair 
with  no  great  disfavour, "  peaceable ;  your  bullet 

34 


Roy  G Neil 

were  in  my  heart  had  not  the  Lord  been  my 
defence." 

"  And  a  well-tempered  cuirass,"  laughed  the 
Cavalier,  lightly.  "  You  might  by  your  sum- 
mons have  been  gentlemen  of  the  road  and  not 
soldiers." 

"  And  is  it  thus  that  English  soldiers  fight — 
two  score  against  one  man?"  broke  in  the  girl 
disdainfully. 

u  Hush,  Eileen,"  her  brother  checked  her 
sharply  ;  but  it  was  too  late. 

"English?"  Cornet  Strong  rode  a  pace 
nearer  and  looked  down  on  his  prisoner  with  a 
measuring  and  merciless  glance.  "  What  then 
are  you — your  name  ?  " 

"  Fitzroy  O'Neil." 

The  brief  answer  struck  a  widening  silence. 
In  the  dead  hush  that  followed,  unnoted  sounds 
broke  sharply,  as  a  swinging  scabbard  clinked 
against  the  stirrup-iron  and  a  horse  with  a  side- 
long shake  of  the  head  blew  the  dust  from  his 
nostrils.  Not  a  man  in  the  Parliament  troop 
but  knew  of  the  ordinance  which  doomed  to 
death  every  Irish  soldier  of  the  King.  The 
young  Royalist  knew  it  too,  and  kept  his  confi- 
dent smile  alight  the  more  steadily.  Only 
Eileen  O'Neil  looked  bewildered  from  one  dark 

35 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

face  to  another  in  mute  appeal  against  an  un- 
spoken menace. 

"  Roy,  what  is  it — what  do  they  mean  ?  "  she 
whispered  at  last. 

"  Courage,  little  sister,"  he  answered,  but  his 
eyes   never   shifted   from   the    Puritan's   face. 

"My  name  has  not  the  honour  to  please 
these  good  gentlemen." 

Cornet  Strong's  eyes  as  he  scanned  his  cap- 
tive held  nothing  of  the  soldier's  equal  anger ; 
to  this  Irishman  and  Papist  he  was  judge  and 
executioner  in  one,  and  between  him  and  his 
victim  lay  a  gulf  too  deep  for  pity  or  wrath  to 
cross. 

"The  judgment  of  God  has  gone  forth 
against  you  and  your  race  and  your  land,"  he 
said,  "and  it  is  written  that  ye  shall  be  cut  off." 

"Will  you  do  murder?"  asked  Roy  O'Neil. 

"Nay,  but  execute  the  law  passed  against 
you." 

O'Neil  glanced  down  at  the  girl  beside  him 
and  made  his  fight  for  life.  "  Against  those  of 
my  nation  which  be  in  arms  for  the  King,"  he 
said,  "  can  you  prove  me  a  soldier  ?  " 

There  was  an  instant's  pause  while  those 
around  drew  breath  as  men  eased  or  baffled. 
Then  the  Puritan  looked  straight  into  the  Roy- 
alist's eyes. 

36 


Roy  a  Neil 

"  Men  say,"  he  began  slowly,  "  that  the  Ma- 
lignants  have  regard  unto  a  point  of  honour, 
yea,  more  than  to  the  laws  of  God.  Will  you 
swear  to  me  that  you  have  not  drawn  sword 
for  the  King?" 

Blue  eyes  held  grey  for  a  heart  beat,  then 
Fitzroy  O'Neil  doffed  his  plumed  hat. 

"God  and  the  King!" 

His  voice  rang  out  like  a  war  cry,  and  like 
a  war  cry  sounded  Strong's  countering  words : 

"  God  and  our  Cause  !  " 

And  both  knew  the  doom  defied  and  pro- 
nounced. 

O'Neil  turned  to  his  sister  and  kissed  her  on 
lips  and  brow.  "  I  have  warded  you  ill,  Eileen," 
he  said.  "  Now  for  God's  sake  to  the  saddle 
and  ride  on.  Claim  protection  of  the  first 
King's  man  which  you  meet,  if — if  I  do  not  over- 
take you  before  then." 

"It  is  not  the  truth  you  are  telling  me, 
brother,"  cried  Eileen.  "What  will  these  men 
do  ?  "  She  sprang  forward  and  laid  her  clasped 
hands  on  the  Cornet's  saddle.  "You,  are  you 
taking  him  prisoner?"  she  faltered.  "  You  will 
treat  him — keep  him  safely?"  Her  eyes 
warred  desperately  against  the  answer  she  fore- 
knew. 

37 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

"  If  you  be  men,"  cried  O'Neil  fiercely, "  lead 
her  away,  or  at  the  least  make  speed." 

And  the  girl,  helpless  to  fight  back  the  truth, 
broke  into  a  passion  of  pleading,  and  then  a 
wild  cry  to  the  Saints  and  Mother  of  God,  which 
struck  dead  the  mercy  which  she  sought. 

O'Neil  glanced  from  Eileen's  bent  head  to  the 
bared  sword  in  his  hand,  and  wondered  which 
he  loved  the  best. 

"  You  have  not  taken  me  yet,"  he  said,  try- 
ing to  steady  his  voice  from  the  sheer  anger 
which  jarred  it,  "  if  I  yield  without  a  blow,  will 
you  suffer  my  sister  go  free  without  insult?" 

"  Yea,"  answered  Cornet  Strong,  "  the  ordi- 
nance of  Parliament  touches  not  her  life,  and 
for  the  rest,  here  are  no  Cavaliers  that  she 
should  not  go  in  honour." 

O'Neil  clenched  his  hand  on  his  sword  hilt, 
then  flung  the  weapon  from  him ;  the  lithe  blade 
lay  quivering  in  the  dust  of  the  road. 

a  Take  it,  damn  you  all !  "  he  cried. 

Eileen  turned  at  the  outcry  and  saw  Roy's 
defenceless  figure  between  the  two  soldiers  who 
had  advanced  upon  him.  She  drew  a  step  back- 
ward, silently  as  death.  The  next  instant  there 
was  one  blue  lightning  flash  of  steel  as  she 
sprang  on  the  Parliament  officer,  her  brother's 
sword  in  her  hand.     Strong  swerved  sharply, 

38 


Roy  a  Neil 

and  as  the  blade  grated  along  his  breast  piece, 
he  caught  the  girl's  wrist  in  a  relentless  grasp. 
For  a  moment  she  struggled  against  it,  then,  all 
her  strength  drained  suddenly  from  her,  she 
fell  forward  against  the  horse's  neck. 

"  Oh !  that  I  had  been  born  a  man,"  she 
moaned. 

Into  the  Cornet's  glance  as  he  watched  her, 
shot  a  strange  gleam  of  scorn  or  triumph.  It 
was  lost  in  a  look  of  deep,  unflinching  pity,  as 
he  bent  forward  and  laid  his  other  gauntletted 
hand  on  the  girl's  eyes  to  shut  out  that  which 
must  follow.  For  a  brief  space,  spent  and  help- 
less she  endured  the  touch.  Then  wrenching 
herself  free  she  dropped  to  the  ground  beside 
the  horse  which  was  stretched  there,  hiding  her 
face  in  the  mane,  as  though  she  sought  comfort 
from  the  dead,  faithful  thing. 

O'Neil  had  been  led  by  the  two  soldiers  to  an 
uneven  hillock  of  ground  a  pace  or  two  away, 
above  which  straggled  the  branches  of  a  low 
growing  tree.  Not  till  he  stood  there  and  saw 
one  of  his  captors  knotting  a  length  of  rope  to 
an  unused  bridle,  did  the  Cavalier  understand 
what  manner  of  death  it  was  which  threatened 
him.  He  flinched  at  that,  for  all  his  hardihood, 
and  there  was  a  choking  in  his  throat  which 
forced  him  into  laughter.     He  gave  one  look 

39 


Comet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

around  at  the  white,  winding  road,  the  troop  of 
the  enemy,  at  his  sister's  crouching  form  and 
hidden  face.  Then  with  an  elaborate  careless- 
ness he  loosened  the  broad  collar  of  lace  and 
pushed  his  long,  curled  locks  aside,  as  the  loop 
settled  to  its  place  about  his  throat.  And  now 
the  soldier  who  held  that  roughly  twisted 
halter  made  as  though  to  throw  one  end  across 
the  bough.  He  moved  heavily  in  his  buff  coat 
and  corselet,  and  twice  the  rope  slipped  back. 
At  the  second  essay  O'Neil,  straining  not  to  fail 
in  his  pride  of  manhood  and  soldiership  before 
this  unmanly  and  unsoldierly  death,  laid  his 
hand  suddenly  on  the  rope. 

"  My  wrist  is  nimbler,"  he  cried,  "  or  I  have 
wielded  rapier  and  dice  box  in  vain,"  and  he 
tossed  the  end  of  the  shameful  noose  lightly 
across  the  branch. 

Catching  it  as  it  fell,  he  turned  for  one  last 
look  of  defiance  at  his  foes.  Instead  he  met 
Eileen's  eyes,  as  she  knelt  in  the  dust  of  the 
road  with  clasped  hands  and  tragically  quiet 
face,  repeating  the  Catholic  office  for  the  de- 
parting soul :  "  In  nomine  sanctorum  Martyrum 
et  Confessorum."  The  stately  Latin  cadences 
in  a  girl's  shaken  voice  beat  strangely  on  the 
silence,  beat  strangely  on  the  ears  of  the  men  who 
listened,  listened   mutely,  though    among   the 

40 


Roy  a  Neil 

Puritans  more  than  one  hand  stole  to  sword-hilt, 
or  clasped  Bible  in  resistance.  "In  nomine 
sanctarum  Verginum  et  omnium  Sanctorum  et 
Sanctarum  Dei :  hodie  sit  in  pace  locus  tuus 
et  habitatio  tua  in  sancta  Sion" 

Sharp  upon  the  stillness,  upon  the  words  of 
the  forbidden  ritual,  broke  the  ring  of  horses' 
hoofs.  Captain  Standish  with  his  Lieutenant 
at  his  side  came  galloping  down  the  road  and 
drew  rein  beside  Roy  O'Neil.  Without  word 
spoken,  his  sword  flashed  out  and  sheered 
through  the  tight  drawn  rope.  O'Neil  stag- 
gered back  against  the  tree,  white  with  the 
breath  of  a  past  peril,  and  Standish  glanced 
angrily  at  his  officer. 

"What  is  this,  Cornet?  What  hangman's 
work  are  you  about  ?  " 

"  Carrying  out  the  ordinance  against  all 
Irish  Papists  in  arms,"  answered  Strong  com- 
posedly, "  he  hath  confessed  himself  Irish  and 
a  soldier  of  the  Malignants,  and  the  damsel  his 
sister  has  been  even  now  repeating  the  idola- 
trous mummeries  of  her  Church." 

"  His  sister,"  Standish  wheeled  his  horse  and 
Eileen's  eyes  met  his  in  no  appeal,  rather  a 
confident  command  of  succour. 

"  Mount  the  prisoner  and  help  his  sister  to 
41 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

horse,"  ordered  Standish  curtly,  "  they  must 
ride  with  us." 

"  The  ordinance  of  the  Houses,"  began  Strong 
doggedly. 

"  Doth  not  saction  mutiny,"  Standish  broke 
in.    "  Fall  back,  sir." 

O'Neil  came  forward  in  a  leisurely  fashion, 
his  attention  apparently  fixed  on  disengaging 
the  noose  and  re-arranging  his  lace  collar. 

"  I  fear  me  your  duty  wars  with  your  inclina- 
tion," he  said,  addressing  himself  courteously  to 
the  Parliament  Captain. 

There  was  an  upright  furrow  between  Stand- 
ish's  brows,  but  he  answered  quietly :  "  My 
duty  and  I  will  adjust  the  matter  in  good  sea- 
son." 

O'Neil  nodded  reflectively :  "  And  this  me- 
morial?" he  inquired,  proffering  the  twist  of 
rope. 

"Fling  the  damned  thing  away,"  cried  the 
Puritan  Captain. 

"  Twelvepence  fine  and  the  grievous  jeopar- 
dizing of  your  eternal  welfare,"  said  Lieutenant 
Flynt  drily,  with  his  black  eyebrows  aslant. 


An  Hour  of  Truce 


IV 

An  Hour  of  Truce 


FEW  words  were  exchanged  between 
the  Parliamentarians  and  their  prison- 
ers on  the  ride  which  followed.  At 
its  end  they  took  up  their  quarters  in 
a  village  on  the  Newark  road,  possess- 
ing themselves  of  its  one  large  house  and  its 
outbuildings.  When  the  officers  had  looked  to 
the  bestowal  of  their  men  and  horses,  they  and 
their  prisoners,  having  supped  in  the  hall, 
gathered  in  a  small  withdrawing  room.  The 
household  ceded  the  place  to  their  martial 
guests  and  would  have  taken  Eileen  into  their 
care  for  the  night,  but  she  slipped  timidly  and 
wilfully  to  her  brother's  side.  She  took  refuge 
in  the  deep  windowseat  and  crouched  there, 
her  chin  on  her  folded  hands,  watching  the 
men  clustered  at  the  oak  table,  where  the  can- 
dles burned  aslant  in  the  air  from  the  open 

43 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

casement.  After  a  time,  finding  herself  unno- 
ticed, she  began  singing  in  soft  snatches,  ca- 
dences full  of  rebellious  regret,  her  low  voice 
weaving  a  silken  strand  through  the  rougher 
talk  of  the  men.  The  older  Puritans  seemed 
not  to  hear,  but  Captain  Standish  took  note 
of  the  singing  with  a  curious  sensation  which 
he  told  himself  was  disapproval. 

"Where  the  swordblades  of  the  reeds  and  rushes  shiver, 
The  feet  of  chiefs,  the  steps  of  heroes  tread. 
At  the  fording,  at  the  fording  of  the  River 
They  have  met,  the  living  and  the  dead, 
Where  the  Ford  runs  red." 

sang  Eileen,  and  Roy  took  note  of  the  Captain's 
wandering  gaze. 

" '  Tis  some  Irish  folly  of  two  Princes  of  old 
time,  dear  friends,  which  fought  to  the  death. 
Eileen  loves  such  gear,  but  give  me  our  gallant 
Lovelace  and  prudent  Sir  John  for  versemak- 
ing." 

The  Parliament  Captain  and  his  Irish  pris- 
oner fell  easily  into  talk  with  the  frankness  of 
honourable  enemies  at  peace  for  the  moment. 
Strong  watched  the  two  young  men  gloomily ; 
he  could  accept  no  truce  with  the  foes  of  the 
Cause,  and  he  sighed  under  the  loneliness  of  an 
unshared  hatred.  Eileen's  glance  shrank  from, 
and  returned  to,  the  stern,  worn  face,  framed 
in  long,  iron-grey  hair,  and  she  sought  relief 

44 


An  Hour  of  Truce 


from  the  vague  foreboding  which  it  woke,  by 
turning  to  the  young  Puritan  Captain.  He  did 
not  look  forbidding,  she  comforted  herself,  with 
his  thoughtful  grey  eyes  and  the  curling  red- 
brown  hair  clipped  just  too  short  to  brush  his 
corselet.  He  would  surely  not  be  cruel  to  Roy 
and  yet — she  remembered  the  scene  by  the 
wayside  tree,  and  her  heart  rose  in  hatred  of 
England  and  a  homesick  memory  of  Irish 
gloamings  when  the  bards  would  sit  by  the 
peat  fire  in  their  forbidden,  many  hued  rai- 
ment and  sing  of  great  dead  days  and  the  tri- 
umphs of  the  O'Neil. 

Meantime  Roy  was  giving  a  brief  account  of 
himself. 

"  You  would  not  take  me  for  Irish,  say  you  ? 
Well,  my  mother,  God  bless  her,  is  English  and 
she  returned  to  her  own  country  and  wedded 
here  when  I  counted  some  five  summers.  Since 
then  I  have  been  mostly  with  her,  though  Eileen 
yonder  abode  with  our  father's  folk  in  Ireland. 
It  was  a  family  paction,  look  you,  so  my  sister 
is  the  more  Irish  of  us  twain,  and  cares  more  for 
a  leaf  of  the  Dark  Rose  than  for  King  and  Par- 
liament." 

"  Why  did  you  not  say  that  you  were  half 
English  ?  It  might  have  saved  your  life,"  cried 
Standish  with  a  look  of  relief . 

45 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

Roy's  eyes  glinted  for  an  instant,  "  Is  it  to 
deny  my  race  and  my  father's  name  ?  "  he  re- 
torted. "  I  am  still  an  O'Neil ;  we  do  not  take 
shame  for  the  name  in  Ireland." 

Cornet  Strong  rose  from  his  place  and  began 
pacing  the  room  restlessly,  his  spurred  tread 
and  the  jar  of  his  long  sword  beating  rough  time 
to  Eileen's  crooning  song.  Standish  sat  ponder- 
ing a  moment  before  addressing  Roy. 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  parole  for  these  three 
days?"  he  demanded.  "Before  they  have 
passed  I  look  for  Major  Ireton  here,  and  must 
lay  the  case  before  him.  I  do  not  think  that 
we  need  fear  an  overharsh  judgment.  Your 
mother  is  English,  you  say,  and  she  still 
lives?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Roy  absently.  He  was  star- 
ing intently  at  the  Cornet  whose  face  flashed 
out  strangely  from  the  shadows  as  he  crossed 
the  little  circle  of  candlelight.  Suddenly  the 
Royalist  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an  oath. 

"  Now,  I  know,"  he  gasped.  "  God !  you  owe 
me  more  than  a  life." 

He  flung  himself  forward,  his  hand  seeking 
desperately  for  a  hilt  that  was  not  there. 
Standish  gripped  his  arm. 

"  Are  you  mad,  O'Neil,  what's  to  do  ?  " 

Roy  checked  himself  and  stood  panting,  while 
46 


An  Hour  of  Truce 


Cornet  Strong  faced  him  with  a  scornful  sad- 
ness. 

"  Loose  his  hand,  Captain/'  he  said,  "  he  can- 
not smite  me  unless  my  hour  be  come." 

By  this  time  Standish,  too,  had  roused  to  rec- 
ognition. 

"  Then  you  were  the  Royalist  which  we  met 
by  Wilstrop  Wood  ?  "  he  said. 

Roy  nodded,  dropping  back  into  his  place 
with  a  look  of  profound  gloom. 

"  I  thought  that  I  had  saved  the  Standard," 
he  muttered,  "the  standard  bearer  had  fallen 
and  I — nay,  we'll  not  talk  on't.  I've  not  found 
a  jest  to  fit  it  yet."  He  glanced  up  at  Stand- 
ish. "  You  checked  the  pursuit  of  me  and 
safeguarded  my  mother.  I  heard  the  tale  of  it 
from  her  later  at  Knaresborough.  I've  more  to 
thank  you  for  than  I  knew,  and  I  thought  that  I 
had  wounded  you." 

"  It  was  not  much,"  answered  Standish  smil- 
ing, and  drawing  off  his  gauntlet  he  showed  the 
red  seam  of  the  sword  cut  along  his  wrist. 

"  A  pretty  remembrancer,"  said  O'Neil.  He 
looked  at  Standish  with  an  odd  smile  and  the 
next  instant  the  two  had  gripped  hands  warmly. 

"  God  of  Israel,  wilt  Thou  not  defend  Thy 
soldier?"  muttered  Cornet  Strong. 

Standish  and  O'Neil  sat  talking  long  after 
47 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

Cornet  Strong  had  silently  departed,  and  Eileen 
slipped  away  to  the  chamber  assigned  to  her. 
All  about  the  house  was  still  with  the  long 
drawn  hush  that  lies  between  midnight  and 
dawn,  when  a  slim  figure  dropped  from  one  of 
the  casements  to  the  terrace  a  few  feet  below. 
Rising  quickly  the  shape  showed  itself  as  a  girl, 
hooded  and  cloaked.  And  the  girl  sped  lightly 
across  the  open  green  sward  towards  the  pro- 
tecting shadow  of  a  clump  of  trees. 

"  Praise  to  our  Lady  and  Saint  Brighid,"  said 
Eileen  O'Neil,  and  a  soldier  stepped  from  the 
darkness  and  confronted  her. 

Eileen's  hand  slipped  to  her  breast,  but  Cor- 
net Strong  caught  her  wrist  and  held  it. 

"  Do  you  carry  the  skene  of  your  country- 
women ? "  he  asked.  "  Go  back  lest  a  worse 
thing  befall  you." 

Eileen's  breath  was  coming  quickly  but  she 
answered  with  a  touch  of  defiance,  "  I  am  no 
prisoner,  why  do  you  steal  thus  upon  me  ?  " 

"I  tracked  you  through  the  shadows,"  he 
made  answer.  "  It  was  not  without  profit,  that 
I  dwelt  in  exile  where  the  Indian  savages  creep 
on  their  prey.  And  you,  damsel,  with  what  in- 
tent do  you  venture  forth  into  the  night  ?  " 

Eileen  knew  herself  baffled  and  flung  the 
truth  angrily  at  her  captor.     "I  would  have 

48 


An  Hour  of  Truce 


sought  my  way  to  the  King's  garrison  at  New- 
ark, and  bidden  them  send  out  men  to  make 
you  prisoners  and  free  my  brother." 

Strong's  face  softened  into  a  grim  approval. 
"I  divined  the  purpose.  'Tis  well  that  you 
avow  it,  but  knew  you  not  that  you  perilled 
more  than  life  in  going  forth,  a  maiden  on  such 
an  errand?" 

Eileen  glanced  at  her  red  cloak  despitefully. 
*  If  I  could  have  reached  Roy,  I  might  have 
disguised  myself  and  gone  safely,"  she  mur- 
mured. 

The  Puritan  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  her 
shoulder. 

"  Go  back,"  he  admonished  her  sternly,  "  get 
thee  into  thy  woman's  life  and  praise  God  with 
great  thanksgiving  that  He  hath  not  laid  on 
thee  the  burden  His  soldiers  bear.  Pray  that 
thou  mayst  follow  Him  by  a  more  merciful 
way." 

Eileen  looked  up  at  him  with  amazement. 
"I  thought  that  you  loved  to  be  cruel,"  she 
said  simply. 

"  The  word  of  the  Lord  is  as  a  two-edged 
sword,"  answered  Cornet  Strong,  though  he 
seemed  scarcely  aware  to  whom  he  spoke,  "  and 
it  is  laid  upon  us  that  we  shall  smite  and  spare 
not." 

D  49 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

"But  not  to  smite  the  defenceless,"  pro- 
tested Eileen  who  was  losing  her  fear  of  her 
captor. 

Strong's  face  hardened  as  he  looked  down  on 
her. 

"I  had  a  child  once,"  he  said  slowly  and 
broke  the  sentence  short.  "  Get  you  into  the 
house,"  he  commanded  in  his  curtest  tone. 
"Seek  out  Captain  Standish  on  the  morrow; 
swear  to  him — if  there  be  any  oath  which  may 
bind  a  Papist — that  you  will  abide  in  quietness 
whilst  that  you  remain  near  your  brother. 
This  night  I  will  see  to  it  that  you  betray  us 
not  to  our  enemies,  keeping  guard  as  they  that 
in  old  times  kept  watch  in  the  night." 

Eileen  slipped  away  in  reluctant  obedience, 
and  Cornet  Strong  paced  up  and  down  along 
the  terrace.  Once  in  his  solitary  vigil  he 
looked  up  into  the  night  sky  and  groaned 
aloud. 

"  Thou  knowest,  0  Lord  God !  Thou  know- 
est  ! " 

But  that  which  was  known  lay  between  his 
own  soul  and  the  silence. 

It  was  towards  noon  of  the  next  day  that 
Captain  Standish,  returning  from  a  reconnais- 
sance, found  Eileen  O'Neil  awaiting  him.  She 
had  come  to  do  Cornet  Strong's  bidding,  feeling 

50 


An  Hour  of  Truce 


sure  that  otherwise  he  would  himself  carry  the 
story  to  his  Captain.  She  confessed  her  pur- 
pose and  its  thwarting,  with  pausing  and  then 
with  hurrying  words,  and  raised  her  eyes  to 
find  no  anger  in  the  glance  which  met  her. 

"  I  am  to  blame,"  said  Captain  Standish 
slowly.  "  I  should  have  known — have  been 
upon  my  guard.  'Tis  but  natural  that  you 
should  desire  to  undo  us." 

"I  did  not,"  began  Eileen  hotly  and  then 
checked  herself.  "  I  wished  no  hurt  to  you — 
'tis  the  others  that  I  hate." 

"  And  so,"  Roy  broke  in,  coming  from  his 
sister's  favourite  place  in  the  window  seat,  "and 
so  thou  wouldst  have  played  the  heroine,  little 
sister,  and  been  another  Countess  of  Derby. 
And  it  was  that  psalm-singing  old  hypocrite 
which  thwarted  us.  'Zounds  !  I  owe  him  a 
long  score." 

"  For  shame,  sir,"  cried  Standish.  "  Remem- 
ber that  your  captivity  protects  you.  Cornet 
Strong  is  no  hypocrite." 

"I  never  thought  that  he  was,"  admitted  Roy 
coolly.  "  'Tis  but  a  friendly  fashion  of  speech. 
No,  the  man  is  earnest  enough,  he  is — your 
Cause,"  he  added  with  sudden  gravity. 

"How  mean  you  that?"  asked  Standish. 

"  'Tis  his  sort  and  not  yours  that  are  beating 
51 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

us,"  answered  Roy  O'Neil,  his  blue  eyes  absent 
and  fixed. 

Standish  eyed  the  courtly  young  figure  in 
frank  surprise.  "I  did  not  know  you  for  a 
seer  of  visions." 

Roy  flung  back  his  dark  curls  and  laughed. 
"  Oh,  for  that — each  one  of  us  is  half  a  poet 
and  half  an  outlaw  and  half  a  monk.  Yes, 
faith,  there  are  more  than  two  halves  to  every 
Irishman." 

"I  do  not  follow  you,"  submitted  Standish 
with  smiling  gravity. 

"No,"  retorted  Roy,  "you  English  can  never 
keep  up  with  us.  Faith,  that's  why  you're  al- 
ways ahead." 

The  laughter  dropped  from  his  face.  "  When 
will  your  Major  Ireton  come  ?  "  he  demanded. 
"  'Tis  scant  manners  to  keep  a  man  waiting  for 
his  hanging." 

Eileen  caught  at  her  brother's  arm  with  a 
low  cry  and  Standish  flinched  visibly. 

"  Nay,  there  must  surely  be  no  fear  of  that," 
he  protested.  "  Had  I  but  the  right — but  I  am 
under  strict  orders  to  hold  any  prisoners  till 
the  Major's  coming." 

"You  do  not  triumph  over  your  enemies' 
downfall,"  said  Roy.  "  'Tis  a  very  ill  Puritan 
you  make,  Captain." 

52 


An  Hour  of  Truce 


Standish  shook  his  head.  "We  have  not 
risen  against  cruelty  that  we  may  practice  it  in 
our  turn,  and  I  am  a  good  lover  of  England. 
At  the  least  I  have  loved  naught  else,  for  I 
have  no  kindred  and  now  that  I  think  on't,  I 
have  scarce  had  a  friend." 

"No  friends,"  repeated  Roy.  "Why,  I've 
had  a  score  and  fought  duels  with  the  half  of 
them." 

But  Eileen  checked  her  brother  softly.  "  Tis 
not  kind  to  jest,  Roy — It  must  have  been  very 
lonely." 

"  I  have  never  counted  it  so  till  now,"  said 
Standish. 

He  looked  across  at  the  two  faces,  feeling 
himself  drawn  to  these  Malignants  by  all  the 
kindly  comradeship  of  youth.  They  seemed 
nearer  to  him  at  the  moment  than  his  own  fel- 
low officers  who  were  pacing  up  and  down  the 
hall  in  grave  discourse.  And  so  he  found  him- 
self telling  the  story  of  his  life  to  these  chance- 
encountered  strangers.  The  tale  was  but  a 
sombre  one.  Found  a  forsaken  child  in  a 
plague  stricken  house,  Nathan  Standish  had 
been  bred  to  manhood  by  the  guardian  whose 
name  he  bore,  and  who  had  given  to  his  young 
charge  all  except  the  love  which  he  himself  did 
not  ask.     A  lonely  man,  vowed  solely  to  his 

53 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

work,  the  associate  of  Pym  and  Hampden  and 
other  leaders  of  the  vanguard  of  the  Cause, 
John  Standish  had  trained  the  boy  Nathan  but 
to  one  purpose. 

"  I  have  loved  England,"  repeated  Standish, 
"  and  I  have  stood  beneath  the  pillory  and  seen 
Englishmen  tortured  for  daring  claim  the  free- 
dom of  their  thought.  What  marvel  that  I 
was  swift  to  draw  sword  against  the  King? 
He  and  his  counsellors  had  known  no  pity. 
We  have  had  two  years  of  trial  and  of  temper- 
ing and  now — " 

"Now  you  think  that  you  have  conquered 
us,"  Roy  broke  in,  "and  begin  to  wonder 
whether  it  is  not  we  that  should  claim  pity. 
Doth  not  that  give  you  pause? " 

"No,"  answered  Standish  with  sudden  fire, 
"there  is  no  mercy  to  any  in  a  half  fought 
battle." 

"  But  we  are  not  enemies  now,"  said  Eileen 
from  where  she  stood  by  her  brother,  "  and  I — 
I  did  not  desire  that  the  Newark  gentlemen 
should  take  you  prisoner,"  she  added  shyly. 

"  I  thank  you  for  that,  Mistress  Eileen,"  an- 
swered Standish  with  a  quick  smile  and  an  un- 
conscious avoidance  of  the  hated  Irish  name. 

Lieutenant  Flynt  and  the  Cornet  were  still  in 
the  broad  hall  when  Standish  passed  through  it 

54 


An  Hour  of  Truce 


with  a  preoccupied  air.  Strong  looked  after  him 
sombrely. 

"He  is  ensnared  by  idle  dalliance  with  the 
enemies  of  God,"  he  said,  "  yet  why  should  I 
be  faithlessly  troubled  thereat?  Surely  God 
makes  the  weakness  as  the  wrath  of  man  to 
praise  Him." 

Flynt  smiled  reflectively.  "  The  lad,  I  mean 
our  valiant  Captain,  hath  committed  no  sin  in  an 
hour's  relenting  towards  our  captives.  Man  is 
curiously  compounded  of  flesh  and  spirit,  and 
we  are  all  somewhat  more  than  mere  engines  of 
soldiership." 

"  I  am  no  more,"  cried  Cornet  Strong  with  a 
protest  that  rang  shrill  as  terror.  "I  am  a 
sword,  a  sword  tempered  to  this  work  and  to 
none  other  use." 

"  The  swords,  we  are  told,  shall  be  beaten  into 
ploughshares,"  answered  Flynt  drily.  "  For  me, 
I  am  by  nature  a  man  of  peace — but  hark  !  the 
challenge  of  the  sentries." 


Comet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 


V 

Ire  tons  ^Judgment 


A  SPURRED  tread  rang  on  the  thresh- 
old and  from  the  wide   encompass- 
ing sunlight  into  the  dusk   of  the 
hall  came  a  tall  man,  wearing  buff 
coat  but  no  corselet,   and  a  broad 
beaver  in  place  of  the  steel  cap.     He  glanced 
keenly  at  the  two  who  had  risen  to  salute  him 
and  demanded  the  whereabouts  of  the  Captain. 
"He  went    forth  but    now   to  inspect    the 
men,"  answered  Flynt.     "  He  has  a  prisoner  to 
deliver  into  your  hands,  Major." 

Major  Ireton  knit  his  black  brows  for  an  in- 
stant. 

"  Well,  no  matter.  I  have  instant  need  of  a 
messenger  to  my  Lord  of  Manchester  at  Lin- 
coln. If  he  but  grasp  quickly  and  strongly, 
we  can  crush  this  hornet's  nest  at  Newark. 
Lieutenant,  can  you  find  urgent  and  persuasive 

56 


I  re  tons  Judgment 


speech  wherein  to  lay  my  report  before  His 
Excellency  ?  " 

"I  can  but  do  my  best,  sir,"  responded 
Flynt,  "  knowing  the  while  that  I  shall  fail." 

"  Never  lawyer  won  his  cause  who  pleaded  in 
that    spirit,"   answerered    Ire  ton    impatiently. 

"  Cornet  Strong,  if  I  entrust  this  mission  to 
you  ?  " 

"  I  shall  speak  the  words  laid  on  me  and  the 
will  of  the  God  of  battles,  which  is  that  we  be 
not  stayed  in  His  work." 

Ireton  nodded.  "That  is  well.  It  will  not 
be  amiss,"  he  added  half  aloud,  "  that  my  Lord 
learn  the  spirit  of  his  own  army." 

He  drew  Cornet  Strong  aside  and  began  to 
speak  with  him  in  a  low,  intent  voice,  finally 
putting  two  or  three  sealed  papers  into  his 
hand. 

"  Take  a  score  men,"  he  ended.  "  The  roads 
are  perilous  with  flying  parties  from  Newark. 
Ride  your  best  and  God  go  with  you." 

He  watched  his  officer's  departure  and 
turned  back  to  Flynt  with  a  certain  air  of  re- 
lief. "I  have  done  my  part,"  he  said.  "If  we 
advance  now — " 

Flynt' s  eyebrows  were  more  tilted  than  usual. 
"  The  Lord  General,"  he  observed,  "  hath  fully 
learned  the  virtue  of  prudence  in  a  commander. 

57 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

I  take  it  he  will  concentre  his  forces  on  Lin- 
coln." 

"  A  heaten  army  could  use  no  other  tactics," 
said  Ireton,  "  Can  a  man  not  move,  I  marvel, 
whilst  that  he  has  a  title  hung  upon  him?" 

He  turned  towards  the  withdrawing  room, 
and  at  that  moment  Captain  Standish  entered 
and  came  to  him. 

"  The  prisoner  of  whom  I  made  report  is 
within,  Sir,"  he  said  quietly,  only  the  upright 
line  on  his  forehead  betraying  his  profound 
disquietude. 

The  two  officers  entered  the  withdrawing 
room  together  and  Ireton  seated  himself  at  the 
end  of  the  table,  flinging  his  sheathed  sword 
heavily  on  the  board  where  it  lay  like  a  sword 
of  justice.  Fitzroy  O'Neil,  who  had  been  deep 
in  converse  with  his  sister,  crossed  the  room 
lightly  and  stationed  himself  before  his  judge. 
There  was  a  moment's  pause  while  the  two 
scanned  each  other.  A  broad  bar  of  sunlight 
struck  across  the  polished  oak  of  the  table  and 
gleamed  on  the  plainly  wrought  hilt  of  Ireton's 
weapon,  leaving  the  Puritan  himself  dark  in 
the  shadow  beyond.  Before  either  of  the  men 
had  spoken  Eileen  came  to  her  brother's  side 
and  slipped  her  hand  into  his.     Ireton's  grave 

58 


Ire  tons  yudgment 


face  relaxed  a  trifle  and  he  saluted  her  courte- 
ously.    Then  he  addressed  Standish. 

"We  do  not  suffer  the  presence  of  women 
at  our  courts  martial.     Attend  the  lady  hence." 

Before  Standish  could  advance  to  do  his  bid- 
ding, Eileen  spoke  for  herself. 

"  Sir,"  she  protested,  "  I  am  myself,  as  this 
gentleman  will  witness,  a  prisoner  on  parole. 
Moreover,  I  am  as  dearly  concerned  as  my 
brother  can  be  in  the  sentence  you  may  pass 
upon  him,  being  he  is  here  my  sole  protector. 
I  pray  you  suffer  me  to  abide  and  share  his 
fortune." 

Ireton's  face  hardened  as  he  listened. 

"  In  truth,"  he  said  in  a  deep  voice,  "  the 
Irish  have  taught  us  that  women  may  share 
the  fate  of  men,  even  when  that  fate  is  mas- 
sacre or  torture."  He  turned  sharply  on  Stand- 
ish. "  How  came  you  to  disregard  the  ordi- 
nance of  Parliament?"  he  demanded. 

The  young  captain  braced  himself,  for  Ire- 
ton's  wrath  was  dreaded  among  his  men,  and 
then  replied,  choosing  his  words  with  care,  that 
he  had  accounted  the  law  passed  against  the 
Irish  a  thing  intended  to  warn  and  strike  terror, 
but  to  be  acted  upon  only  in  extremity. 

"  Too  much  of  private  judgment,"  the  Major 
threw  in. 

59 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

"Sir,"  replied  Standish  boldly,  "  'tis  a  right 
we  fight  for." 

Ire  ton's  swarthy  face  flushed,  then  he  smiled 
frankly. 

"  Honestly  answered,  Captain." 

"  Moreover,  sir,"  Standish  pursued,  "  the 
prisoner  is  but  half  Irish,  his  mother  being 
English.     Is  it  not  even  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Roy  curtly. 

"  The  name  is  Irish  enough  to  make  up  for 
that,"  answered  Ireton  with  a  touch  of  grim- 
ness.  "  Are  you  of  kin,  Sir,  to  Colonel  Daniel 
O'Neil?" 

"  As  we  Irish  count  cousinship — yes." 

"  An  arch-plotter  against  the  Common- 
wealth," exclaimed  Ireton,  "and  proclaimed 
traitor  by  the  Houses." 

"  'Tis  an  honour  he  shares  with  His  Majesty's 
nephews,"  retorted  Roy,  whose  temper  was  be- 
ginning to  get  the  better  of  him,  "  and  take 
note,  Sir,  that  you  have  not  my  cousin  Dan  to 
deal  with.  '  Zounds,  if  you  had,  he  would  be 
worth  exchange,  officer  and  Court  favourite 
that  he  is." 

He  was  watching  recklessly  to  see  Ireton's 
frown  deepen,  but  to  his  amaze  it  vanished  in- 
stead. 

"  You  shall  not  at  least  fare  the  worse  for 
60 


Iretoris  yudgment 


that  last  lack.  The  time  is  passing  when  such 
baubles  shall  weigh  in  the  scale  of  judgment. 
And  since  Captain  Standish  here  has  once 
spared  you  the  extremity  of  the  law,  it  were 
ill  done  to  try  you  again  without  fresh  cause 
given." 

"  I  am  still  an  Irishman,"  protested  Roy  wil- 
fully. 

Ire  ton's  lips  twitched,  but  he  answered 
gravely : 

"  Aye,  but  you  need  not  be  still  a  soldier. 
You  must  remain  our  prisoner  while  we  are 
quartered  here.  Beyond  that  I  will  suffer  you 
go  free,  if  you  engage  yourself  not  to  draw 
sword  again  against  the  Parliament." 

Eileen  gave  a  little  sobbing  cry  of  relief,  but 
Roy  drew  a  step  backward,  his  face  struck 
white. 

"  Not  to  serve  the  King  again  in  England," 
he  repeated  dully. 

His  choice  of  words  was  unconscious,  but  it 
shot  keen  suspicion  into  Ireton's  eyes. 

"  Not  to  fight  against  the  forces  of  the  Parlia- 
ment, now  at  Westminster,  in  any  part  of  his 
Majesty's  dominions,"  he  said  with  stern  de- 
liberateness. 

Roy  O'Neil  broke  into  a  shrill  and  jarring 
laugh.     All   the  debonair  frankness    had    for- 

61 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

saken  his  young  face,  leaving  it  curiously  hag- 
gard and  sinister. 

"  Easy  to  see  that  you  were  bred  to  the  law, 
Sir,"  he  cried.     "  And  if  I  refuse  your  mercy  ? " 

"  You  know  the  alternative." 

There  was  a  tense  silence  while  Roy  stared 
straight  at  the  sword  before  him,  and  the  pres- 
ence of  his  sister  at  his  side  was  less  near  and 
real  a  thing  than  the  martial  dreams  he  must 
forego.  He  controlled  face  and  bearing,  and 
perhaps  only  the  Puritan  Captain  caught  sight 
of  the  clenched  left  hand  which  betrayed  him. 
Major  Ire  ton  sat  impassive,  but  Standish  could 
not  endure  the  pressure  of  that  pausing  hush. 

"  Your  mother,"  he  said  in  an  urgent  under- 
tone. 

Roy  drew  a  quivering  breath  and  faced  his 
captor.  "Will  you  have  my  promise  put  on 
paper,  Sir,  since  you  make  a  lawyer's  business 
of  it?" 

"I  will  take  your  word,"  answered  Ireton 
quietly. 

O'Neil  flung  back  his  head.  "  Then  I  engage 
myself  not  to  draw  sword  again  for  his  Majesty 
against  you  in  any  part  of  his  dominions,  and 
this  I  swear  on  the  faith  of  a  soldier — and  an 
Irishman,"   he   added  with   sudden  sweetness. 

62 


Ire  ton's  yudgment 


"  I  am  beyond  words  bounden  to  you  for  that 
you  have  spared  me — my  life." 

He  swept  a  profound  bow  of  mock  courtesy, 
and  went  lightly  from  the  room,  and  stumblingly 
across  the  hall  beyond. 

Eileen,  wide-eyed  in  bewilderment  of  joy  and 
distress,  dropped  to  her  knees  at  Ireton's  side  to 
give  thanks  for  the  life  which  Roy  had  staked 
so  lightly.  He  raised  her  with  a  gentleness 
which  sat  strangely  upon  him,  and  she  would 
have  hastened  from  the  room  had  not  Standish 
stayed  her  on  the  threshold. 

"I  must  to  my  brother,"  she  said.  "Oh — 
you  know  how  I  thank  you — now  I  must  go  to 
him." 

But  Standish  answered  her  from  a  soldier's 
instinct.  "Leave  your  brother  to  himself  for 
a  space  ;  he  must  bid  farewell  to  much." 

It  was  in  the  gloaming  of  the  following  day 
that  Captain  Standish  next  had  speech  of  Eileen 
O'Neil.  He  was  returning  from  the  outbuild- 
ings where  some  of  his  men  were  quartered, 
when  he  heard  her  singing  beneath  the  trees  of 
the  park. 

"  Gleam  the  torques  where  clash  the  shield  and  quiver; 
Wave  the  reeds  beneath  the  wind  of  fight. 
At  the  fording,  at  the  fording  of  the  River, 
Friend  to  friend  and  race  for  race  they  smite 
Where  the  Ford  runs  bright." 

63 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

It  seemed  to  him  at  that  moment  that  he 
knew  her  best  as  a  soft  voice  in  the  dimness, 
and  that  voice  had  helped  trouble  his  thoughts. 
He  wished  these  Irish  strangers  had  never  been 
flung  across  his  path  to  perplex  his  clear  out- 
look along  the  straight  road  of  his  life.  And 
while  he  was  framing  the  thought,  he  was  walk- 
ing across  the  green  sward  towards  the  unseen 
singer.  He  found  Eileen  carrying  a  woven 
basket  filled  with  newly  gathered  herbs,  while 
from  one  hand  swung  an  ancient  rosary  of 
chased  silver  which  she  clasped  closer  at  his  ap- 
proach. Standish's  face  clouded  at  the  sight 
and  he  addressed  her  with  a  formal  courtesy. 

"  It  grows  late,  Mistress  Eileen,  and  you  are 
alone?" 

"  I  am  about  your  service,"  she  answered 
quickly.  "  I  heard  that  one  of  your  soldiers  had 
fallen  sick  by  reason  of  the  sun,  and  that  you 
had  no  physician  near." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Standish,  "  I  come  from  the 
man  but  now.  '  Tis  pity  that  Cornet  Strong  is 
not  with  us,  he  hath  skill  in  these  matters." 

"  But,  truly,  so  have  I,"  protested  Eileen. 
"  At  my  home  there  was  often  need  of  such 
help,  and  I  can  bandage  wounds.  See,  I  have 
gathered   herbs   which   be   healing   for   fever. 

64 


Iretoris  yudgment 


Now  take  me  to  your  soldier — for  you  were 
good  to  Roy,"  she  added  softly. 

"  And  where  is  your  brother  ?  "  asked  Stand- 
ish. 

"  I  do  not  know,"  she  answered  piteously. 
"  He  was  harsh  with  me  to-day  for  the  first  time, 
and  all  because  I  told  him  there  were  other  ways 
of  serving  than  by  soldiership." 

"  But  that  is  most  certain,"  said  Captain 
Standish  simply,  though  with  the  silent  thought 
that  to  take  another  way  in  these  days  of  war- 
fare would  be  hard  indeed. 

"  Why,  so  I  said,"  she  insisted,  "  and  showed 
him  moreover  how  that  we  women  " — she  gave 
a  petulant  little  laugh  that  was  half  a  sigh — 
"  must  ever  find  such  ways  to  serve.  Sure," 
she  added  with  a  smile,  "  there  be  more  paths 
than  one  to  every  city,  though  mayhap  some 
wind  to  and  fro  more  than  others." 

"  And  your  brother  said?" 

Standish  put  the  question  half  absently,  for 
he  was  thinking  how  strangely  Eileen's  words 
chimed  or  clashed  with  his  own  mood  a  moment 
since. 

"  He  cried  out  on  me,  and  asked  how  I  dared 
— and  then  he  laughed  and  told  me  that  I  was 
as  good  a  sister  as  Fionnuala,  daughter  of  Lir, 
e  65 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

and  even  too  good  an  O'Neil.  But  I  did  not 
understand." 

Neither  did  her  companion  understand,  and 
as  she  ended  his  attention  was  roused  by  the 
challenge  of  the  sentries.  Then  came  the  sound 
of  a  horse's  hoofs,  a  wearied  horse,  and  a  rider 
spurred  past  them.  The  glimmer  of  the  Cap- 
tain's headpiece  and  corselet  must  have  re- 
vealed him,  but  perhaps  Cornet  Strong  did  not 
see  the  girl  who  stood  slight  and  shadowy  by 
the  trunk  of  the  great  tree.  Perhaps  even  he 
failed  to  see  or  recognize  Standish  himself,  for 
though  he  seemed  to  turn  on  him  a  wan  and 
fixed  gaze,  he  did  not  draw  rein  or  even  salute, 
but  held  straight  on.  With  his  passing  a  change 
came  over  the  Captain's  mood.  The  girl  beside 
him  looked  suddenly  alien,  hostile  even,  and  the 
tiny  twist  of  silver  in  her  hand  flashed  out  on 
him  the  thing  it  was,  symbol  of  a  hated  cause 
and  creed. 

"  I  cannot  go  with  you  now,"  he  said,  uncon- 
scious of  the  altered  ring  in  his  own  voice.  "  If 
you  still  desire  to  seek  out  that  soldier,  he  lies 
yonder  and  my  men  will  suffer  you  to  pass  if 
you  give  the  word,  '  Truth.'  Fare  you  well, 
Mistress  Eileen,  I  must  go  learn  the  tidings 
which  are  brought." 

He  swung  hastily  into  the  house  and  sought 
66 


Ire  ton's  yudgment 


out  Major  Ireton  whom  he  found  pacing  up  and 
down  the  broad  hall,  a  thundercloud  of  wrath 
on  his  brow.  He  held  a  letter  clenched  in  his 
hand  and  was  questioning  the  Cornet,  his  words 
coming  short  and  menacing  as  pistol  shots. 

"  No,  truly,  Sir,"  Strong  was  replying  as  the 
Captain  came  within  hearing  of  their  talk,  "  I 
had  but  little  speech  with  his  Excellency.  Major 
General  Crawford  was  with  him  and  had  much 
to  say  concerning  the  factious  spirit  in  the 
Army  and  the  need  of  weeding  out  the  sec- 
taries." 

Strong's  voice  grated  over  the  last  words  and 
Ireton  came  to  a  full  stop  in  his  pacing. 

"  Ah  !  "  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  but  when  the 
day  comes  for  the  purging  of  the  Army  who 
knows  which  of  us  shall  be  the  chaff.  But  the 
day  is  not  yet." 

He  turned  his  dark  eyes  full  on  his  officer  and 
read  something  more  than  weariness  in  the 
white  and  twitching  face. 

"You  are  hurt,  Cornet,  give  yourself  rest 
and  tendance.  The  failure  of  our  work  here 
lies  not  on  you." 

"  The  hurt  is  but  slight,  Sir,"  replied  Strong, 
yet  for  all  that  it  was  with  a  heavy  and  uncer- 
tain step  that  he  passed  on  into  the  house. 

Ireton  stood  pondering  for  a  moment,  then 
67 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

he  addressed  Standish.  "  I  look  for  weighty 
messages  to-morrow ;  the  next  day  at  dawn  we 
march." 

Eileen  O'Neil  was  still  busied  with  her  phy- 
sician's work  when  Captain  Standish  came  up 
the  rude  steps  into  the  loft.  A  yellow  lan- 
thorn  light  was  falling  across  the  pile  of  straw 
where  Gideon  Brown,  the  sick  soldier,  was  ly- 
ing. The  girl's  intent  face  as  she  bent  above 
him  showed  dimly  in  the  dusk  of  her  hair.  As 
Standish  approached  she  commanded  silence 
with  an  imperative  little  gesture  and  slipped 
across  to  his  side. 

"  He  is  sleeping,  he  will  do  well  now,"  she 
whispered. 

"  There  must  be  wizardry  in  your  potions," 
replied  the  officer,  as  he  helped  her  down  the 
narrow  stair,  "  and  I  have  come  to  pray  you  to 
bestow  them  yet  further  on  us.  Cornet  Strong 
is  wounded  and  he  will  suffer  no  tendance. 
'  Tis  a  solitary  spirit ;  yet  if  you  can  help  me 
to  a  cordial — " 

Eileen  caught  her  clasped  hands  to  her 
breast,  a  movement  very  common  with  her. 
"  But  I  must  go  to  him,"  she  said  breathlessly. 

"  Then  you  will  ?  "  said  Standish.  "  I  thought 
perhaps  that  you  feared  him  over  much,"  he 
added  smiling. 

68 


Iretoris  yudgment 


"I  do  fear  him  and  I  think — I  hate  him," 
Eileen  confessed,  "yet  if  he  be  hurt — "  she 
paused  uncertainly.  "  I  have  tended  our  people 
so  often,  but  he  would  destroy  my  people." 
She  stood  resistant,  turning  angry  and  doubt- 
ing eyes  on  Standish.  "  Why  did  you  ask 
me?"  she  cried,  quite  heedless  of  the  fact  that 
he  had  not  asked.  "  Oh,  I  hate  you  and  your 
England." 

"  But  you  will  come,"  said  Standish  gently. 
And  she  made  no  further  protest. 

"And  you  must  not  hate  England."  He 
took  up  the  broken  thread  of  their  talk  as  they 
stood  by  the  great  door. 

She  glanced  desolately  back  at  the  night. 
"  It  is  all  strange  to  me.  We  are  akin  to  the  hills, 
we  O'Neils.  I  cannot  breathe  in  your  flat  green 
country,  and  the  winds  do  not  call  as  they  do 
at  home,  call  and  call  from  very  far  away. 
And  your  people — "  the  word  recalled  her  task 
and  she  passed  on  quickly. 

In  a  little  upper  chamber  Cornet  Strong  lay 
stretched,  still  as  the  effigies  which  sleep  upon 
tombs.  The  single  rush  light  burning  beside 
him  cast  a  flickering  gleam  on  his  discarded 
armour,  on  the  clasped  book  which  he  held, 
and  deepened  the  hollows  of  the  sunken  face, 
wan   against    the    iron    grey  masses   of   hair. 

69 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

Eileen,  tremulous  upon  the  threshold,  felt  her 
anger  slip  from  her.  She  made  a  step  forward 
and  Strong  spoke  without  opening  his  eyes. 

"  I  stand  in  no  need  of  help,"  he  protested 
in  a  toneless  voice,  and  as  he  spoke  he  clenched 
one  hand  on  his  breast  to  hide  the  sinister  little 
stain  on  his  buff  coat. 

"  But,"  began  Eileen  and  at  her  voice  the 
soldier  started,  turning  on  her  a  look  of  strange 
intentness. 

"  But  you  are  hurt  and  I  can  tend  wounds 
and  brew  sovereign  drinks  against  fever." 

Strong's  eyes  were  still  searching,  probing 
hers. 

"  And  who  shall  assure  me,"  he  said  slowly, 
"  whether  the  drink  from  thy  hand  give  sleep 
for  a  night  or  forever  ?  " 

Eileen  caught  her  breath  in  a  sob  of  anger. 

"  I  do  not  brew  poisons,"  she  said,  and  would 
have  turned  to  go  but  that  the  other's  voice 
withheld  her. 

"Stay,"  it  said.  Was  it  in  command  or 
pleading  ?     "  Come  nearer — nearer." 

Unwillingly  the  girl  obeyed  till  she  stood 
close  by  the  low  couch.  Strong  caught  her 
hands  and  with  feverish  force  drew  her  to  her 
knees  beside  him.  What  was  the  urgent  yet 
voiceless  question  which  his  eyes  put  to  hers  ? 

70 


"'IF    I    PUT    MY    LIFE    IN    THY    HANDS   WILT   THOU    BE    FAITHFUL?"' 


Iretoris  ^Judgment 


"  The  work  is  not  yet  done,"  he  murmured. 
"  Shall  the  scythe  be  put  aside  before  the  har- 
vest is  reaped  ?  "  Then  aloud  to  the  wondering 
girl,  "  If  I  put  my  life  in  thy  hands,  yea  and 
more  than  my  life,  even  my  life's  work,  wilt 
thou  be  faithful  ?  " 

"  I  will  be  faithful,"  said  Eileen  gravely. 

Strong's  grasp  relaxed  and  for  an  instant 
there  stole  across  his  face  a  strange  look  of 
weariness,  of  rest.  Then,  pushing  the  weak- 
ness from  him,  he  made  a  gesture  of  denial. 

"  In  God's  hand  be  it — not  thine — " 

His  voice  failed  midway  in  the  refusal  and 
his  head  sank  back.  Heedless  of  leave  with- 
held, Eileen  rose  from  her  knees  and  with  deft 
fingers  began  to  loosen  the  buff  coat. 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 


VI 

Out  of  the  Ranks 


"  W  "W  "yHERE  is  my  sister  ?  "    demanded 
m  ^  /     ^°^  O'Neil  as  ne  swung  back  the 
^U  W       door  and  stormed  into  the  pres- 
*     ™        ence  of  the  wounded  Puritan. 

"She  hath  departed,"  answered 
Strong,  raising  himself  on  his  elbow. 

He  spoke  slowly  and  in  a  softened  voice. 
But  Roy  took  no  heed  of  any  change  in  him 
and  stood  glooming  at  his  antagonist. 

"I  make  you  my  congratulations,"  he  broke 
out  at  length.  "  Sure  you  must  be  content  with 
the  end  of  our  encounter,  and  then  to  have 
Eileen  come  tend  you.  Faith,  she  hath  learned 
Christian  meekness  among  the  godly." 

Strong  made  no  reply  and  Roy  sat  himself 
down  unbidden  on  the  corner  of  the  table.  He 
was  in  the  mood  when  to  flee  his  own  thoughts, 

72 


Out  of  the  Ranks 


a  man  will  jest  with  his  mortal  enemy,  or  in  an 
equal  recklessness  lay  bare  his  soul  to  him. 

"  Nay  then,"  he  began  at  last, "  I  am  not  sure 
that  you  meant  so  ill  by  me  when  you  essayed 
to  hang  me.  'Zounds,  why  did  you  not  do  it 
and  make  an  end  ?  "  He  dropped  his  chin  into 
his  hand  and  stared  at  the  Puritan  who  returned 
the  gaze  gravely  and  with  no  look  of  hostility. 
"What  shall  a  man  do,"  said  O'Neil  slowly, 
"  when  his  life  is  put  in  pieces  ?  " 

He  asked  the  question  in  a  voice  from  which 
the  mockery  had  gone,  and  with  the  same  sim- 
plicity Strong  replied  to  the  man  whose  death 
he  had  sought  to  compass. 

"  Build  it  anew  after  the  fashion  which  is  or- 
dained." 

"  And  how  the  devil  shall  he  know  what  that 
is  ?  "  retorted  Roy  peevishly 

Strong  forgot  to  rebuke  the  oath  as  he  an- 
swered slowly,  "  Let  him  ask  it  of  God  and  his 
own  soul." 

Roy  relaxed  his  scrutiny  and  shook  his  head 
smiling ;  he  frowned  seldom,  for  all  those  dark 
brows  of  his.  The  Puritan's  answer  might  be 
all  sufficing  to  himself,  but  to  the  Catholic  and 
Royalist  used  to  the  intervening  authority  of 
man,  it  came  with  little  help  or  meaning.  He 
was  not  ready  for  the  other's  fiery  and  unflinch- 

73 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

ing  gaze  straight  into  the  abysses  of  Heaven 
and  his  own  spirit. 

"  My  own  soul,"  repeated  Roy  O'Neil,  "  if  I 
were  to  ask  counsel  of  that — but  what  should 
you  know  of  it  ?  " 

"  For  I  have  gathered  my  life  up  out  of  des- 
olation and  laid  it  as  a  sacrifice  on  the  altar," 
said  Cornet  Strong.  "Surely  the  Cause 
abides." 

O'Neil  got  to  his  feet  smiling  again,  an  odd 
and  secret  smile. 

"It's  good  counsel,"  he  said  softly. 

Roy  had  his  hand  on  the  latch  of  the  door 
when  it  was  pushed  open  from  without  and 
Standish  entered  slowly,  the  furrow  between 
his  brows  more  denned  than  usual. 

"Do  we  march,  Captain?"  cried  Strong 
starting  erect,  though  he  flinched  with  the  pain 
of  the  movement.  "Surely  I  shall  be  ready 
when  the  trumpet  sounds." 

"  There  is  no  need,"  answered  Standish  with 
an  effort.  "  Major  Ireton  is  already  gone  and  I 
follow  forthwith.  But,  I  have  even  at  this  mo- 
ment received  commands  from  headquarters. 
I  am  ordered  to  place  you  under  arrest." 

His  eyes  dropped  as  though  it  were  he  who 
met  the  stroke  and  he  did  not  see  the  look  which 
flashed  into  Strong's  face.     It  was  a  look  of  no 

74 


Out  of  the  Ranks 


revolt  or  pride,  but  rather  of  such  terror  as  a 
man  may  feel  whose  world  crumbles  and  whose 
sky  reels  about  him. 

But  there  was  one  who  did  see  and  that  was 
Roy  O'Neil,  who  was  still  standing  half  hidden 
in  the  shadow  of  the  door  as  when  the  Captain 
had  entered.  He  had  made  a  quick  movement 
to  depart,  and  then  with  a  bitter  twitch  of  the 
lips,  he  had  checked  himself  and  remained  mute 
and  observant. 

"  Hath  God  mocked  me  ?  "  said  Reuben  Strong 
at  length  in  a  lifeless  voice,  and  reaching  for 
his  sword  where  it  lay  sheathed  beside  his 
armour,  he  surrendered  it  into  his  Captain's 
hand. 

Standish  took  it  reluctantly. 

"Be  assured  that  justice  shall  be  done,"  he 
said,  adding  with  a  tone  of  subdued  passion,  "  it 
is  for  that  we  strive.  Surely  the  time  is  not 
come  when  we  must  seek  it  in  vain  among  our- 
selves. There  is  discord  in  these  days  among 
those  in  high  places,  but  there  is  always  Crom- 
well." 

And  with  the  name  his  voice  dropped  to  a 
note  of  assurance. 

But  Strong  did  not  answer  even  to  his  lead- 
er's name.  He  remained  staring  blankly  out 
before  him  like  a  man  struck  suddenly  blind. 

75 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

With  a  half  troubled,  half  compassionate  glance 
Standish  turned  and  went  out,  and  O'Neil  leav- 
ing his  place  in  the  shadow  went  softly  and 
swiftly  after  him. 

Left  alone  Reuben  Strong  gave  one  exceed- 
ing bitter  cry  and  then  flung  himself  down  on 
the  pallet  where  he  lay  with  hidden  face.  Mem- 
ories flickered  before  him,  of  the  camp  fires  of 
the  Puritans  where  they  gathered  for  evening 
rest  and  thanksgiving,  of  the  marching,  of  the 
charging  ranks,  link  on  link  of  steel  impenetra- 
ble. Had  he  not  been  forged  and  tempered  to 
be  of  that  steel?  Remoter  memories  came  of 
savage  warfare  in  the  West,  of  the  pathless 
forests  and  pathless  waters  by  which  this  soldier 
of  the  Cause  had  journeyed  to  his  work  and  to 
this  end. 

"  Yet  surely  the  Lord  called  me  to  this  serv- 
ice," cried  the  Puritan  in  an  affirmation  agon- 
ized with  question.  "  O  God  !  because  the 
child  is  not  which  should  have  served  Thee, 
surely,  the  burden  and  the  call  were  mine.  All 
things  have  been  stripped  from  me  that  I 
should  be  a  sword  to  Thine  enemies.  And  now 
is  the  sword  sheathed  and  given  over  to  the 
corruption  of  rust.  I  have  followed  by  strange 
ways  and  now  Thou  dost  strike  Thy  will  across 

76 


Out  of  the  Ranks 


my  path  and  bid  me  cease  from  following  when 
there  is  no  turning  back." 

He  rose  unsteadily  and  groped  his  way  to 
the  narrow  casement,  where  he  stood  straining 
out  into  the  night.  "A  land  of  darkness  as 
darkness  itself;  and  of  the  shadow  of  death 
without  any  order  and  where  the  light  is  as 
darkness." 

Meantime  while  Reuben  Strong  met  his  black 
hour  alone,  his  fellow  officers  were  talking  of 
his  arrest  in  more  temperate  mood.  Captain 
Standish  ready  equipped  for  the  march  was 
striding  up  and  down  the  hall,  knitting  his 
brows  nervously.  He  was  regretful,  resentful, 
aware  above  everything  that  life  during  these 
last  quiet-seeming  days  had  grown  suddenly 
perplexed.  Lieutenant  Flynt,  seated  at  the 
table,  was  bending  his  close  cropped  head  above 
a  small  volume  bound  in  tarnished  leather,  a 
volume  of  a  most  Biblical  and  sanctified  appear- 
ance. 

"  The  matter  is  simple  enough,"  said  Flynt, 
turning  over  the  leaves  of  his  book  as  he  spoke, 
"  our  Cornet  doubtless  used  fiery  and  urgent 
words  in  laying  his  report  before  the  General, 
and  after  his  departure  Crawford  hath  persuaded 
his  Excellency  that  such  urgence  was  insolent 
even  to  the  point  of  mutiny — hence  the  arrest, 

77  ' 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

the  Lieutenant  General  being  doubtless  safely 
out  of  the  way." 

"  Cromwell  will  take  the  matter  in  hand  if  he 
think  his  meanest  soldier  unjustly  dealt  with," 
said  Standish  musingly, "  and  yet  to  bring  more 
dissension  betwixt  him  and  the  Major  General 
Crawford — " 

"  Is  not  needful,"  Flynt  assented.  "  Our 
most  worthy  Lieutenant  General  is  in  a  rebel- 
lious mood  in  these  days.  Waller  has  been  de- 
feated in  the  Midlands;  Essex  is  pressed  to 
ruin  in  the  West — " 

"  And  we  are  inactive  here,"  cried  Standish 
bringing  his  hand  down  on  his  sword  hilt  so 
that  the  weapon  added  a  warlike  voice  to  the 
talk.  "  And  yet,"  he  continued  more  soberly, 
"  I  can  half  understand  my  Lord's  hesitance 
since  the  great  battle.  Sure  'tis  no  unworthy 
fault  to  fear  our  too  complete  victory." 

Flynt  tilted  his  eyebrows  in  answer,  "My 
young  friend,"  he  said  gravely,  "  I  warn  you 
against  contracting  an  evil  vice.  'Tis  your 
trick  of  trying  to  look  on  both  sides  which  will 
hinder  your  advancement  on  either.  But  now 
for  this  matter  of  our  Cornet — " 

"  Yes  ?  "  queried  Standish,  for  he  had  paused. 

Flynt  pointed  out  of  the  window.  "  I  was 
but  observing  our  Irish  Papist,  Master  O'Neil, 

78 


Out  of  the  Ranks 


making  friends  with  Gideon  Brown,  to  whom 
his  sister  played  physician.  That  young  gen- 
tleman hath  a  gift  for  friendship,  I  shall  be 
content  when  he  is  gone.  But  our  Cornet? 
Yes,  I  think  if  the  matter  be  brought  fittingly 
before  the  Lieutenant  General  he  may  move 
strongly  therein.  For  he  is  as  firmly  resolved 
that  the  Independents  shall  thrive  in  the  Army 
as  Crawford  that  they  shall  be  rooted  out.  If 
we  bring  the  matter  to  his  notice — well  you 
are  a  soldier  not  an  engineer — but  have  you 
ever  marked  the  firing  of  a  train  ?  " 

"  Who  has  not,  and  what  is  it  to  the  pur- 
pose ?  "  asked  Standish. 

"  Only  that  the  spark  is  out  of  all  proportion 
to  the  explosion.  Our  leader  is  of  a  masterful 
nature ;  and  mark  you  what  says  my  pocket 
philosopher,  '  Let  us  speak  like  Politicians : 
there  is  a  Nobility  without  Heraldry,  a  natural 
dignity  whereby  one  man  is  ranked  with 
another,  another  filed  before  him,  according  to 
the  quality  of  his  Desert  and  Pre-eminence  of 
his  good  parts.' " 

"Is  that  your  Soldier's  Bible  ?  "  asked  Stand- 
ish smiling. 

"  I  could  match  the  text  with  one  from  Scrip- 
ture." 

79 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

"  Whereby  you  would  conclude  ?  " 

"That   our  Lieutenant  General   will  be  no 

man's  Lieutenant  long,"  said  Flynt  closing  his 

book. 


A  Bible  bears  Witness 


vn 

A  Bible  bears  Witness 


THE  march  had  begun  at  last,  and  from 
the  demeanour  of  the  officers  it  might 
have  seemed  that  the  Puritans  had 
left  much  behind  at  the  Manor 
House,  where  they  had  held  their 
quarters  for  so  brief  a  time.  Captain  Standish 
rode  heavily,  his  head  bent  beneath  his  steel  cap. 
He  was  not  leading  his  men  back  to  Lincoln,  for 
Manchester  had  moved  at  length  and  was  mak- 
ing Southward,  whither  Standish  was  to  follow 
as  soon  as  he  had  made  search  for  arms  at  cer- 
tain Royalist  houses  on  the  way.  The  business 
was  very  little  to  the  young  Captain's  liking, 
and  perhaps  the  prospect  of  it  helped  to  cloud 
his  brow,  or  he  may  have  been  moved  by  the 
hurried  and  low-toned  words  with  which  his 
Royalist  prisoners  had  that  morning  bidden  him 
farewell. 

f  81 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

Lieutenant  Flynt  took  note  of  his  Captain's 
discomposure  in  his  own  observant  and  not 
wholly  sympathetic  fashion,  and  once  on  rang- 
ing up  beside  him  he  put  some  questions. 

"  You  are  troubled,  Sir,  that  we  leave  New- 
ark unsubdued  and  Prince  Rupert  gathering 
forces  unmolested  ?  " 

Standish  hesitated,  "I  am  troubled,  yes.  But 
for  our  movements,  our  Generals  are  answerable 
for  them." 

"  And  will  doubtless  proceed  to  send  us  forth- 
with into  winter  quarters,"  concluded  Flynt 
with  a  glance  at  the  summer  blue  September 
sky.  "  Well,  if  the  trumpet  give  forth  an  un- 
certain sound,  who  shall  prepare  himself  for  the 
battle?" 

The  Lieutenant's  scriptural  quotations  usually 
roused  some  irritation  in  Standish,  but  to-day 
they  seemed  to  wake  a  deeper  unrest. 

"  I  have  often  marvelled,"  he  said  slowly, 
"  what  brought  you  into  this  Army." 

"  And  I  have  always  told  you,"  responded  the 
other  imperturbably,  "  that  I  am  here  for  that 
I  am  a  man  of  peace." 

"The  text  requireth  a  commentary,"  said 
Standish  drily,  eyeing  his  companion's  warlike 
equipment. 

"lam  by  nature,"  explained  Flynt  with  com- 
82 


A  Bible  bears  Witness 


plete  gravity,  though  the  ends  of  his  eyebrows 
had  lost  themselves  under  the  rim  of  his  head- 
piece, "  a  man  given  to  speculation  and  the  pur- 
suit of  truth,  for  the  which  I  require  reasonable 
quiet  and  assurance  of  spirit.  These  I  thought 
to  find  more  fully  amongst  those  engaged  in 
riding  down  others  than  amongst  those  ridden 
down." 

"But  why  upon  our  side?"  demanded 
Standish  with  the  same  odd  intentness. 

"  I  chanced  to  be  in  a  Puritan  neighbourhood," 
responded  Flynt  composedly.  "  Moreover,  I  be- 
lieve that  you  will  win,  which  the  better  suits 
my  convenience." 

Standish  studied  him  with  an  air  of  disfavour. 
"You  bear  all  the  marks  of  our  extremest 
party,"  he  objected. 

Flynt  smiled  with  philosophic  cheerfulness. 
"  Even  so,  Captain.  By  clipping  my  hair  I 
keep  my  tongue  and  my  opinions  undipped, 
and  whilst  that  I  cultivate  a  befitting  accent  of 
Godliness  no  man  questions  me  whether  I  carry 
the  Soldier's  Bible  or  the  Religio  Medici  in  my 
knapsack.  For  the  rest,  l  What  is  Truth  ? '  said 
jesting  Pilate,  and  would  not  stay  for  an  an- 
swer. " 

"Did  he  jest?"  said  Standish  in  a  deepened 
voice  and  gave  his  horse  the  spur. 

83 


Comet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

While  the  two  officers  talked,  Strong  rode  in 
a  dogged  silence,  his  face  emptied  even  of  sad- 
ness or  revolt,  and  his  eyes  fixed  dully  either  on 
the  road  which  slipped  beneath  him  or  the  col- 
ours which  that  day  he  did  not  bear.  Flynt 
eyed  him  askance  from  time  to  time,  but  even 
that  inquiring  gentleman  found  something  de- 
terrent in  the  rigid  countenance.  Strong  for  his 
part  was  not  thinking,  not  even  feeling ;  he  rode 
in  a  helpless  numbness  as  a  man  whose  sword 
hand  is  struck  from  him  in  the  midst  of  battle. 
When  a  halt  was  called  for  the  night,  he  obeyed 
the  Captain's  gesture  of  summons  with  no  feel- 
ing beyond  the  bodily  relief  from  bodily  weari- 
ness. 

Standish  had  elected  to  bivouac  that  night  in 
the  open,  though  one  of  the  houses  which  they 
were  to  search  lay  not  a  mile  ahead.  There 
was  no  question  of  assault  or  surprise  and  the 
Captain  objected  to  making  his  inquisitions  by 
night.  At  such  a  time,  he  was  wont  to  say, 
search  was  difficult  and  lurking  treachery  al- 
ways possible.  If  he  had  any  further  reasons 
for  his  forbearance  he  kept  them  strictly  to 
himself.  Having  set  his  sentries  and  watched 
the  distribution  and  rough  cooking  of  his  men's 
rations,  Standish  wrapped  his  cloak  about  him 

84 


A  Bible  bears  Witness 


and  stretched  himself  by  one  of  the  small  camp 
fires. 

"  You  will  share  my  quarters  for  this  night, 
Cornet?"  he  suggested,  edging  his  courtesy 
with  an  imperative  glance. 

"  I  am  your  prisoner,"  responded  Strong  in 
a  voice  too  dull  for  resentment,  and  he  dropped 
heavily  to  the  ground  where  he  lay  motionless, 
his  untouched  food  on  the  grass  near  by  him. 

He  desired  to  think  out  what  lay  before  him, 
to  wrestle  with  God  in  prayer,  to  prepare  his 
spirit  for  that  which  might  befall.  Instead  he 
lay  there  idly,  his  mind  obscured  by  a  drift  of 
broken  memories,  while  meaningless  details  of 
the  scene  around  bit  into  his  brain,  ineffaceably. 
Outstretched  figures  of  the  sleeping ;  intent  and 
disputatious  faces  round  the  camp  fires,  how 
the  dancing  shadows  made  merry  with  them. 
And  the  red  leaping  flame-light  burnished  the 
weapons  and  harness  to  a  show  of  keen  pre- 
paredness ;  steeped  them  red  in  sinister  mim- 
icry. Here  and  there  a  harmless  tuft  of  grass 
would  be  singled  out  by  a  flicker  of  brightness 
and  a  single  stalk  of  foxglove  lifted  a  pallid 
spike  of  blossom  on  the  rim  of  the  wavering 
circle  of  light.  Strong's  eyes  wearied  of  the 
unreal  show  and  his  glance  turned  back  to  the 
man  beside  him,  to  the  clear-featured  young 

85 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  on  s  Horse 

face  with  the  troubled  line  between  the  brows 
grown  deeper  of  late.  Standish  was  turning 
over  the  leaves  of  a  small  Bible  which,  like  so 
many  of  the  Puritans,  he  carried,  but  to  which 
he  resorted  less  often  than  most. 

Strong  watched  the  restlessly  turned  leaves, 
scanned  the  bent  head  and  noted  how  the  fire- 
light played  on  the  crisp,  red  brown  hair.  The 
sight  sent  his  fancy  back  to  a  child's  head 
blotted  from  his  life  many  a  year  away,  and 
he  groaned  in  spirit  as  he  tried  to  put  the  car- 
nal weakness  from  him.  Then  while  he  still 
thought  to  keep  vigil  deep  sleep  fell  upon  him 
and  he  lay  stretched  motionless  beside  the 
smouldering  fire. 

Starting  suddenly  awake,  alert  as  though  an 
assault  had  been  sounded,  he  found  himself 
staring  at  the  bright  sickle  of  Charles'  Wain, 
while  in  his  mind  there  rang  certain  words 
heard  unheeded  hours  before.  Strange  that  he 
should  recall  them  so  clearly  and  that  his 
numbed  brain  should  only  now  put  a  meaning 
into  them.  Someone  had  been  speaking  be- 
low his  casement  after  the  word  of  arrest  had 
struck  him,  speaking  hurriedly,  intently,  yet 
with  a  guarded  voice  which  he  could  not  have 
heard  had  his  senses  been  less  strung  by  pain 
of  mind  and  body.     And  the  speaker  had  been 

86 


A  Bible  bears  Witness 


Roy  O'Neil.  He  knew  that  now,  though  the 
words  had  then  been  but  a  babble  of  empty 
sound.  Yes,  Roy  O'Neil  was  the  speaker,  but 
who  was  the  listener  ? 

"  Oh,  for  our  meeting,"  the  Royalist  had 
been  saying,  "  I  can  give  you  a  pass  which  by 
the  special  providence  of  the  Devil  I  have  with 
me,  and  as  concerns  your  service  it  will  not  be 
forgotten  by — well,  by  his  Highness — "  and  the 
speech  ended  with  a  note  of  laughter  which 
jarred.  To  whom  had  O'Neil  been  speaking? 
Was  there  treason  in  the  camp  ?  Strong  drew 
himself  half  erect  and  looked  around.  Treason, 
and  if  there  were  how  could  he  prove  or  check 
it,  himself  discredited  and  set  aside  ?  And  yet 
the  words,  the  warning  had  come  to  him. 
Surely  there  was  a  meaning  in  that.  He 
looked  to  where  Standish  lay,  deep  breathing 
in  the  sleep  of  wearied  youth ;  beside  him  lay 
the  little  Bible  fallen  from  his  hand.  The  Cor- 
net reached  out  and  took  up  the  worn,  little 
book. 

"  Vouchsafe  me  a  sign,  0  God !  "  And  the 
Bible  lay  open  in  his  hand. 

It  had  fallen  apart  at  no  text  of  the  sacred 
writings,  but  at  the  blank,  first  page,  a  page 
crumpled  and  yellowed,  a  page  torn  half  across 
and  dimly  showing  in  the  fire-light  some  lines 

87 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

of  faded  writing.  Yet  at  the  sight  past  and 
present  smote  together  into  a  blinding  oneness, 
and  the  Puritan  covered  his  eyes  as  before  a 
vision  of  intolerable  light. 

"  My  son  Nathan,  whom  I  dedicate  to  Thy 
service.  Let  my  first-born  be  pleasing  in  Thy 
sight." 

So  much  and  no  more  might  be  read  on  the 
torn  fly  leaf,  and  it  shook  the  soldier  to  a  passion 
of  strong  tears.  When  Strong  looked  up  again 
his  eyes  fell  on  the  face  of  the  young  Captain 
sleeping  near  him,  and  the  face  was  known  to 
him,  was  part  of  him  from  all  time.  There 
could  never  have  been  an  hour  when  he  followed 
it  in  march  and  charge  unwitting.  Kneeling 
there,  disgrace  forgotten  and  disablement  done 
away  with,  he  knew  himself  one  with  all  things, 
from  the  stars  which  beat  in  wellnigh  audible 
concord  above  him  to  the  earth  of  harvests  be- 
neath. His  God  was  a  God  of  the  living,  the 
God  who  gave  increase  and  fruitfulness,  and 
who  prospered  His  servants  from  generation  to 
generation.  In  that  hour  he  felt  himself  ac- 
cepted, sealed  as  more  than  the  lonely  soldier 
of  the  Cause. 

"  My  son  !  "  He  only  thought  the  words,  he 
dared  not  speak  them  yet,  and  even  the  silent 
utterance  shook  him.     Looking  down  again  on 

88 


A  Bible  bears  JVitness 


the  Bible  in  his  hand,  he  turned  its  leaves  to 
find  the  record  it  had  so  faithfully  preserved 
and  so  strangely  rendered.  But  in  so  doing 
he  dislodged  a  slip  of  closely  folded  paper  which 
slid  between  his  fingers  to  the  ground.  A 
slight  and  harmless  thing,  it  lay  there  not  bend- 
ing the  grass  blades.  The  faintest  breath  of 
wind  might  have  tossed  it  into  the  fire,  which, 
replenished,  burned  so  steadily  near  at  hand. 
But  there  came  no  puff  of  wind,  no  shooting  of 
wayward  sparks,  and  Strong  took  up  the  paper 
absently  in  his  trance  of  thanksgiving. 

"  To  all  whom  it  may  concern :  passe  the 
Bearer  safelie  and  with  such  Help  as  shall  be 
required. 

"Rupert,  Pr." 

When  his  Highness  had  signed  that  pass  at 
the  urgence  of  the  man  who  had  fought  for  his 
Standard,  he  had  not  guessed  the  work  it  was 
to  speed;  and  when  Eileen  O'Neil  had  sur- 
rendered her  safe  conduct  into  her  brother's 
hand  she  had  been  far  indeed  from  divining 
whom  it  was  to  ensnare. 

But  the  paper  had  come  to  fulfill  its  purpose 
and  lay  a  damning  proof  in  the  Puritan's  hands. 
He  stared  at  it  with  eyes  blinded  by  that  one 

89 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

reading  and  then  folded  it  carefully  together 
with  a  hand  which  did  not  shake. 

"Hath  God  mocked  me?"  asked  Reuben 
Strong  for  the  second  time.  And  with  the 
sound  of  his  own  voice  something  broke  in  him. 
He  flung  himself  prone  on  the  ground  and  set 
his  teeth  through  grass  and  sod  to  choke  back 
the  cry  that  rent  in  him. 

When  the  storm  had  swept  over  him,  he 
looked  about  on  earth  and  sky  grown  strange 
and  then  rose  and  bent  above  his  son. 

"What,"  he  whispered  to  the  sleeper,  "What 
if  the  Lord  have  doomed  thee  to  perish  by  my 
hand?" 

And  then  because  the  sleeper  did  not  stir  to 
confront  him,  he  drew  back  and  juggled  with 
his  conscience. 

"  If  thy  treason  be  not  consummated,"  yet 
there  he  paused,  scanning  the  paper  in  his  hand  ; 
that  and  the  Royalist's  words  meant  completed 
treachery.  Then  his  work  was  not  to  slay  but 
denounce,  yet  himself  suspended  how  was  he  to 
speak?  And  in  his  soul  he  thanked  God  for 
disgrace. 

Again  he  spoke  to  the  sleeper  in  a  dry  and 
broken  whisper,  "  I  would  have  given  my  place 
to  thee,  my  life  for  thee — now  it  shall  be  my 
work  to  watch  and  track  thee  as  the  hunter  the 

90 


A  Bible  bears  Witness 


prey.  And  when  I  know  the  hour  of  betrayal 
near — "  his  voice  died  choking  and  his  hand 
slipped  to  his  belt  where  his  sword  was  not. 

The  Captain  stirred  uneasily  beneath  the 
eyes  which  arraigned  him,  agonized  over  him. 
He  flung  out  one  hand  brushing  the  other's 
knee.  Strong  bent  nearer  with  a  mutter  of 
broken  words.  He  reached  out  a  hand  in  turn 
as  though  to  lay  it  on  the  sleeper's  cheek  or 
brow.  Then  his  arm  dropped  and  he  groaned 
aloud. 

"  No ;  not  that,  lest  I  should  be  bidden  to 
slay  him  when  he  lies." 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 


VIII 

The  Generals  at  Issue 


"  y    ■    ^HEN    you    are    resolved?"    asked 
Lieutenant  Flynt. 

"  I  am  resolved,"  returned  Stand- 
-*■        ish  soberly. 

The  two  officers  were  silent  for 
a  time,  listening  to  the  low  plash  of  the  oars, 
which  seemed  to  voice  well  enough  the  Avistful 
monotony  of  the  Fen  Country  about  them,  grey 
in  an  autumn  twilight.  Standish's  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  tower  of  the  great  Cathedral,  its 
outlines  merging  softly  into  the  island  haze. 
But  Flynt  was  busied  in  studying  his  compan- 
ion's face. 

The  Army  of  the  Eastern  Association  was  on 
familiar  ground  now,  quartered  in  and  about 
Huntingdon,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  counties 
which  had  sent  it  forth ;  and  Ireton  paused  in 
his  warlike  work  to  take  up  his  Deputy  Gov- 

92 


The  Generals  at  Issue 


ernorship  of  the  Island  of  Ely.  It  was  from  him 
that  Standish  was  now  coming  charged  with 
letters  for  his  Commander,  and  Lieutenant  Flynt, 
absent  from  his  place  on  sick  leave,  had  seen  fit 
to  accompany  his  Captain. 

"  Oh,  if  you  come  from  his  Worship  the  Dep- 
uty Governor,"  Flynt  took  up  the  interrupted 
talk,  "  you  are  doubtless  all  for  Roman  virtue 
and  equal  justice  to  all  men ;  yet  I  see  not  that 
Reuben  Strong's  rights  need  so  greatly  trouble 
you,  the  more,  since  he  is  but  suspended  and  so 
free  to  plead  his  own  cause." 

"  My  name  hath  been  used  in  the  accusings 
brought  against  him,"  replied  Standish.  "  More- 
over there  is  the  bare  justice  of  the  case." 

"  Ireton  again,"  murmured  Flynt. 

And  Standish  turned  on  him  angrily. 

"  Doth  that  mean  that  I  am  the  puppet  of  the 
last  man  which  speaks  with  me  ? " 

"  Far  be  it  from  me  to  think  it,  Captain,"  re- 
turned Flynt  with  a  good  deal  of  honest  liking 
mingled  with  his  raillery,  M  only  somewhat  the 
puppet  of  your  own  thoughts.  Of  what  were 
you  pondering  while  you  eyed  the  Minster  so 
steadily?" 

"  I  was  thinking,"  answered  Standish  slowly, 
"  that  I  saw  General  Cromwell — he  was  but 
Colonel  then — call  down  the  surpliced  priest 

93 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

from  his  high  place  in  Ely  pulpit,  putting  him 
to  silence  and  opening  the  Church  unto  freer 
worship.  And  I  was  considering  how  great 
things  have  been  wrought  in  this  place  which 
hath  been  the  refuge  of  the  oppressed  since  the 
days  of  the  hunted  Saxon,  the  outlawed  fol- 
lowers of  de  Montfort.  Surely  here  at  least 
Freedom  hath  gained  firm  footing." 

"  On  the  Marshes,"  assented  Flynt  with  his 
driest  smile.  "  And  now  is  Ely  famed  as  a  nest 
of  sectaries  and  heretics.  Know  you  what 
good  work  I  have  been  about  whilest  that  you 
were  plotting  mutiny  with  Ireton  ?  Nay  then, 
mark  you,  truly  a  word  in  season  is  like  an  ap- 
ple of  gold  in  a  picture  of  silver.  I  was  coming 
down  the  steps  of  the  Minster  when  I  met  with 
a  group  of  soldiers  and  townspeople  intermin- 
gled. They  knowing  me  for  an  officer  in  this 
godly  Army  whose  very  sergeants  have  the  gift 
of  prophesying,  called  on  me  for  a  profitable 
discourse." 

"Which  you  did  not  give?"  smiled  Stand- 
ish. 

"Which  I  gave  with  great  outpourings  of 
the  spirit,  choosing  a  text  which  the  good  folk 
may  spend  time  in  finding.  'A  man  may  be 
in  as  just  possession  of  Truth  as  of  a  City  and 
yet  be  forced  to  surrender.     'Tis  therefore  far 

94 


The  Generals  at  Issue 


better  to  enjoy  her  with  peace,  than  to  hazard 
her  on  a  battle.'  " 

"  That  is  profane  and  perilous  jesting,  Lieu- 
tenant," said  the  Captain  sternly. 

But  Flynt  answered  unabashed  :  "  More  pro- 
fane and  perilous  it  were  for  me  with  mine  un- 
aided wisdom  to  seek  to  interpret  Holy  Writ. 
For  the  rest,  my  hearers  found  my  discourse 
commendable  and  I  had  the  Minster  for  the 
scene  thereof." 

The  last  words,  whether  by  design  or  no, 
brought  to  Standish  a  vision  of  Flynt' s  oddly 
Puritanical  figure  affronting  the  century- 
builded  beauty  of  the  Minster.  Was  there  not 
after  all  something  to  be  said  for  the  grave 
and  ordered  service  which  he  had  seen  dis- 
placed ? 

Still  in  a  protesting  mood  he  got  him  to  horse 
when  the  mainland  was  reached  and  rode  on 
his  way  to  Huntingdon.  All  about  him  dim  in 
the  grey  half-light  stretched  the  Fen  Country 
in  its  inscrutable  beauty,  a  beauty  not  of  form 
or  colour,  but  builded  of  distance,  of  far  horizons 
and  the  sense  of  plains  and  the  sea.  Standish 
loved  it,  for  though  his  foster-father's' home  lay 
in  the  West,  he  had  been  trained  at  Cambridge 
and  knew  all  its  neighbourhood  for  many  and 
many  a  mile  by  the  long  dream-companioned 

95 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

rides  of  his  youth.  As  he  swung  off  along  the 
familiar  roads  in  the  growing  darkness,  he  had 
an  odd  sense  of  home  coming  for  all  the  wide 
and  desolate  night.  And  the  faint  glimmer  of 
the  marshy  levels  recalled  Cromwell's  work  as 
"  Lord  of  the  Fens  "  and  knit  past  and  present 
in  one.  Sooner  than  Standish  could  have 
wished,  the  long  journey  was  ended  and  he 
found  himself  at  Huntingdon  dismounting  at 
the  door  of  Cromwell's  quarters.  He  sent  his 
despatches  and  was  about  to  withdraw  when  he 
took  note  of  a  stir  about  the  place  and  on  put- 
ting a  question  learned  that  General  Cromwell 
was  to  depart  the  next  day  for  London.  Stand- 
ish sat  moveless  for  a  moment  in  his  saddle, 
recalling  certain  words  of  Ireton  which  now 
sounded  with  a  new  significance. 

"  If  you  desire  to  bring  the  matter  before  the 
General,  waste  no  time,  for  grave  matters  are 
toward,  in  the  dealing  wherewith  small  matters 
may  find  place." 

A  quick  resolve  sprang  up  in  the  young  Cap- 
tain to  bring  Strong's  case  before  his  General 
without  waiting  for  his  return  from  London. 
He  rode  off  accordingly  to  seek  his  Cornet,  pro- 
testing inwardly  the  while  at  the  work  in  which 
he  found  himself  engaged.  Why  had  not 
Strong  himself  made  a  stand  for  his  rights,  in- 

96 


The  Generals  at  Issue 


stead  of  hiding  away  like  a  wounded  creature 
and  waiting  for  the  hand  of  the  Lord  to  stretch 
visibly  from  the  clouds?  The  Captain  asked 
himself  why  he  should  be  so  concerned  over 
what  befell  this  grim-visaged  fellow-soldier  of 
his,  and  found  his  own  answer  of  justice  scarcely 
sufficient.  When  he  had  climbed  the  steep 
stairway  to  the  upper  chamber  where  he  knew 
Strong  lodged,  half  covertly  as  beseemed  a  dis- 
graced and  suspended  man,  Standish  was  dis- 
mayed to  find  the  place  empty.  True,  being  no 
longer  under  arrest  Strong  was  free  to  come 
and  go  as  he  would,  but  why  must  he  needs  be 
gone  at  this  moment?  Wearied  out  and  baffled 
in  this  piece  of  knight-errantry,  for  such  it  now 
seemed  to  him,  Standish  remounted  and  rode 
away. 

A  steel-grey  dawn  had  broken  and  a  salt  and 
searching  wind  sighed  up  from  the  East.  Stand- 
ish drew  his  cloak  about  him  and  decided  rea- 
sonably that  he  would  break  his  fast,  then  make 
amends  for  a  busy  and  sleepless  night.  It  so 
chanced  however  that  his  way  led  by  the  Gen- 
eral's quarters  and  glancing  past  the  sentry, 
Standish  caught  a  glimpse  of  Cromwell  himself 
in  the  courtyard  ready  equipped  for  riding. 
At  sight  of  his  leader's  figure  it  looked  suddenly 
a  simple  thing  to  make  right  prevail.  Standish 
G  97 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

sprang  from  his  wearied  horse  and  approached 
the  gateway.  The  sentry  barred  his  way  with 
his  pike,  but  Cromwell,  whose  composed  grey 
eyes  saw  everything,  had  marked  the  Captain's 
approach  and  signed  that  he  should  pass  in. 

"  What  is  this  ?  "  he  asked,  eyeing  Standish's 
splashed  and  disordered  figure.  "  Are  you  not 
he  who  delivered  despatches  from  Ely  but  now, 
and  have  you  faulted  in  your  work  that  you 
seek  me  thus  again  ?  " 

Standish  hesitated  for  a  moment,  then  re- 
membering that  Cromwell  suffered  involve- 
ments in  no  man's  speech  but  his  own,  he  spoke 
out  clearly. 

"  Sir,  I  hear  that  you  are  to  set  forth  without 
tarrying.  I  pray  you  ere  your  departure  to 
see  right  done  in  a  matter  which  concerns  your 
soldiers." 

"  It  is  to  see  right  done  that  I  go,"  answered 
Cromwell  with  an  ominous  bending  of  the  heavy 
brows.     "  Of  what  is  it  that  you  would  speak  ?  " 

So  standing  together  under  the  open  sky, 
with  no  martial  or  judicial  parade  about  them, 
Standish  told  his  story  to  his  chief.  Cromwell 
listened  unmoved,  while  his  horse  stamped  im- 
patience on  the  stones  near  by,  till  the  final 
words  were  reached. 

"And,  Sir,"  concluded  Standish  hotly,  fired 
98 


The  Generals  at  Issue 


by  his  own  protest,  "it  was  your  own  word 
which  raised  Cornet  Strong  to  that  place,  and 
that  on  the  battlefield  of  York." 

"Where  God  spake  in  the  thunders  and  in 
the  charge,"  said  Cromwell  quietly,  though  the 
veins  showed  a  beating  ridge  across  his  fore- 
head. "  Yea,  there  we  hearkened  to  His  voice, 
but  now  men  speak  and  we  are  abashed  before 
them."  He  wheeled  on  Standish  with  a  curious 
suddenness  of  movement.  "  Come  with  me," 
he  commanded  "  and  bear  thy  witness  before 
the  Lord  General.  We  will  essay  no  mutiny," 
and  he  laughed  harshly. 

"  Before  my  Lord  of  Manchester  ?  "  ex- 
claimed Standish. 

"  Aye,  before  my  Lord,  before  my  Lord,"  re- 
peated Cromwell  with  a  rasping  note  of  deri- 
sion. "Methinks  Ireton  holds  truly  and  it 
will  be  better  in  England  when  my  Lord  is 
plain  Master  Montagu." 

Vaguely  wondering,  and  feeling  himself 
caught  up  in  wheels  which  moved  to  larger  is- 
sues than  he  understood,  Standish  followed  his 
General  and  together  they  rode  to  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Earl  of  Manchester.  As  he  rode 
Standish  remembered  how  Manchester,  in  ear- 
lier times  when  he  was  but  Lord  Kimbolton, 
had  been  a  foremost  worker  in  the  little  band 

99 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

which  gathered  round  Pym  and  Vane,  braved 
the  terrible  Earl  of  Strafford  and  confronted  the 
power  of  the  King.  In  those  days  the  young 
nobleman  had  neither  flinched  nor  loitered,  but 
had  withstood  even  his  own  father,  the  old  Roy- 
alist Earl,  whose  unreconciled  dust  was  buried 
hard  by.  The  pain  of  a  familiar  doubt  touched 
Standish.  He  had  sought  justice  for  the  simple 
soldier  at  the  hands  of  his  leader.  Was  the 
great  peer  and  (General  receiving  justice  from 
his  men  ?  He  glanced  into  Cromwell's  inflexi- 
ble face  with  a  sense  of  rest.  Here  was  one 
who  knew  to  deal  with  the  imperative  present. 

On  reaching  the  headquarters  they  found 
the  court  filled  with  a  confusion  of  serving  men. 
Cromwell  eyed  them  askance  as  he  rode 
through. 

"My  Lord  takes  coach  to  London,"  he  ob- 
served grimly.     "  I  ride." 

His  Excellency,  the  Lord  General,  gave  in- 
stant audience  to  his  Lieutenant,  and  the  har- 
assed lines  on  his  kindly  face  deepened  visibly 
as  he  glanced  up  from  his  papers. 

"  My  Lord,"  began  the  Lieutenant  General 
after  but  the  briefest  salute,  "  I  trouble  your 
Lordship  at  this  present  with  what  may  seem 
an  inconsiderable  matter,  being  it  deals  with 
but  a  single  soldier.     Yet  where  great  concerns 

100 


The  Generals  at  Issue 


have  gone  so  much  awry,  small  ones  may  be 
set  right.  May  it  please  you,  Sir,  to  give  me 
to  understand  the  true  guilt  of  Cornet  Strong, 
the  which  was  an  officer  I  myself  appointed." 

Manchester  flushed  deeply  but  he  dropped 
his  eyes  despite  his  frown. 

"  Truly,  in  the  press  of  great  affairs,"  he  said 
uneasily,  "  meseemeth  this  is  but  an  unreason- 
able demand.  It  was  by  my  wish  that  Major 
General  Crawford,  you  being  then  absent,  gave 
the  order  to  suspend  this  man.  He  had  spoken 
unto  me  with  open  insolency." 

" '  Tis  possible  he  voiced  the  sense  of  the 
Army,"  said  Cromwell  drily,  and  there  was  a 
blank  pause. 

Manchester  shuffled  his  papers  for  a  moment 
and  then  looked  up  with  a  relieved  air.  "  More- 
over," he  added,  "  it  hath  been  reported  to  me 
that  this  Lieutenant — Cornet  Strong — was 
guilty  of  mutiny  against  his  officer  in  com- 
mand." 

Standish  advanced  a  step.  "  May  it  please 
you,  Sir,"  he  said,  "  the  matter  hath  been  mis- 
represented unto  your  Excellency.  I  counter- 
manded an  order  given  by  the  Cornet  and  he 
made  some  remonstrance  unto  me,  yet  no  more 
than  was  well  within  his  right,  he  being  mine 
elder  and  a  proven  soldier." 

101 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

My  Lord  sighed  irritably  and  looked  about 
him  as  though  helplessly  in  search  of  his  ad- 
viser and  Cromwell's  enemy,  the  loud-voiced 
Scotchman  Crawford.  Finding  himself  unsup- 
ported he  made  another  attempt  to  carry 
through  his  will. 

"  The  man  is  a  sectary,  no  more  obedient 
unto  the  Covenant  than  unto  the  Church.  It 
is  these  heretical  fellows,  Anabaptists  and  the 
like,  which  estrange  from  us  the  good-will  of 
all  sober  folk." 

The  smouldering  resentment  in  Cromwell's 
eyes  quickened  into  frank  fire. 

"And  if  he  were  an  Anabaptist,  admit  he 
be,"  he  said  with  an  undertone  of  menace  in 
his  voice,  "  if  he  be  come  to  fight  for  the  Cause 
of  God  and  against  His  enemies,  shall  we  bar 
him  away  from  his  work  ?  My  Lord,  my  Lord, 
we  have  not  broken  the  yoke  of  the  Prelates 
to  bow  ourselves  unto  any  other  power  of  man's 
devising.  And  for  the  work  we  have  in  hand, 
I  ask  no  better  than  to  have  a  plain  russet 
coated  soldier  with  the  zeal  of  God  in  him,  and 
my  men  are  like-minded  with  me." 

Again  menace  in  the  closing  words,  but  Man- 
chester chose  not  to  understand. 

"I  will  have  the  matter  closely  looked  into 
on  my  return,"  he  said,  rising  from  his  seat. 

102 


The  Generals  at  Issue 


"  It  consorts  not  with  my  dignity  to  act  hastily 
or  unadvisedly." 

From  his  place  in  the  background  Standish 
had  been  watching  the  two  Generals  with 
breathless  intentness.  He  saw  Cromwell's  jaws 
set  like  a  steel  trap,  and  he  divined  that  more 
entered  into  his  resolve  than  the  fate  of  a  single 
Cornet  of  Horse. 

"  Will  it  suit  better  with  your  Lordship's 
pleasure,"  asked  the  Lieutenant  General  delib- 
erately, "  that  I  and  the  Colonels  which  serve 
under  me  should  lay  down  our  commissions, 
finding  to  our  griefs  that  we  may  not  serve 
your  Excellency  and  our  own  consciences  ?  " 

There  was  a  complete  silence  while  Manches- 
ter stared  at  his  dominant  second-in-command 
as  if  half  eager  and  more  than  half  afraid 
that  he  would  act  upon  his  word.  In  the  hush 
the  sound  of  marching  echoed  into  the  silent 
room  from  the  street  which  it  overlooked.  A 
detachment  of  soldiers  was  moving  by.  With 
an  absent  and  negligent  air  Cromwell  stepped 
across  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  And  at 
sight  of  that  face  acquainted  with  conflict  the 
men  below  sent  up  a  deep  and  resounding 
shout,  checked  instantly  by  the  iron  word  of 
command.  Cromwell  came  back  into  the 
chamber,  a  slow  smile  lurking  about  his  lips. 

103 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

"  They  do  not  idolize  me,  they  love  the  Cause 
they  fight  for,"  he  deprecated.  "  Yet  they  be 
poor,  unknowing  men  and  somewhat  of  their  af- 
fection hath  gone  out  unto  this  humble  instru- 
ment of  God's  work  among  them." 

Manchester  made  direct  answer  to  the  indi- 
rect warning. 

"Unless  graver  matters  be  brought  against 
him,  Cornet  Strong  is  re-instated.  It  were  very 
little  meet  that  the  leaders  in  the  good  work 
should  be  divided  on  a  so  frivolous  matter." 

The  Lieutenant  General  took  his  leave  with 
all  due  ceremony  while  Manchester's  glance 
crossing  his,  confessed  plainly,  that  their  meet- 
ing was  but  a  skirmish  to  be  followed  by  graver 
conflict. 

Out  in  the  street  again  Cromwell  spoke  more 
to  himself  than  his  companion. 

"  I  had  thought  since  this  grievous  matter  in 
the  West  that  my  Lord  would  see  reason  and 
we  might  yet  work  together.  But  I  do  per- 
ceive that  he  is  grounded  against  me.  The 
Lord  hath  graciously  forewarned  me  in  good 
time." 

More  anxious  than  elated  Standish  repaired 
to  his  own  quarters  and  found  Lieutenant  Flynt 
ensconced  beside  a  welcome  fire. 

"So  you  have  done  your  work?"  said  that 
104 


The  Generals  at  Issue 


personage  cheerfully  when  the  Captain  had 
finished  his  narration. 

"  But  it  needs  not  that  Cornet  Strong  should 
know  much  of  my  hand  therein,"  observed 
Standish. 

Flynt  nodded  approvingly.  "  Let  not  your 
left  hand  know — Well,  and  you  may  be  content 
with  your  work.  I  doubt  you  have  helped  put 
match  to  a  mine,  the  explosion  whereof  will  be 
heard  at  Westminster." 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  the  Houses  ?  "  pro- 
tested Standish. 

Flynt  slanted  his  eyebrows  as  he  replied, 

"  Truly  we  and  our  affairs  are  as  small  dust 
in  the  balance,  yet  when  scales  are  evenly 
weighted  a  little  dust  may  have  its  uses." 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 


IX 

On  Newbury  Field 


DAYBREAK  and  the  reveille.  Stan- 
dish  sprang  to  his  feet  shaking  off 
the  chill  and  numbness  of  the  shelter- 
less bivouac.  All  about  him  on  the 
bleak  Berkshire  heath  rose  the  hum 
of  swift  preparedness,  as  the  Parliament  forces 
forgot  cold  and  hunger  and  long  delay  in  the 
certainty  of  action  ahead.  Manchester's  loiter- 
ing marches,  reluctant,  from  his  beloved  Eastern 
counties  bad  brought  him  within  touch  of  the 
enemy  at.  last.  Standish  had  chafed  impa- 
tiently at  the  slow  movements  by  Banbury  and 
Reading,  almost  within  striking  distance  of  the 
King's  Oxford,  heart  of  the  Royalist  Cause. 
He  had  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  there 
was  one  who  chafed  more  and  that  was  Lieu- 
tenant General  Cromwell,  who  had  come  to  all 
but  an  open  breach  with  Manchester  in  London 

106 


On  Newbury  Field 


and  was  now  busied  in  trying  to  put  the  heart 
of  war  into  that  peaceable  gentleman.  It 
would  be  open  battle  now  at  last,  even  my 
Lord  the  Earl  could  hesitate  no  longer.  The 
young  Captain  felt  the  sheer  delight  of  soldier- 
ship pulsing  through  him,  as  he  looked  to  girth 
and  bridle  and  encouraged  his  grey  horse  for 
the  coming  march. 

"  Shall  we  surprise  his  Highness,  think  you?" 
asked  a  voice  beside  him  and  he  turned  to  find 
Lieutenant  Flynt  shivering  in  his  great  cloak. 

"I  trust  that  we  may,"  responded  Standish, 
"  but  we  shall  need  press  on  valiantly  to  do  it." 

"  Our  regiment  cook  will  not  long  delay  us," 
observed  Flynt,  "  however  it  may  chance  with 
our  chaplin.  Mark  you  that !  "  as  some  of  the 
men  began  a  deep-throated  psalm.  "Pray 
Heaven  they  sing  not  loud  enough  to  waken 
the  guns  of  Donnington  Castle." 

"Silence  there,"  commanded  Cromwell's 
voice  as  he  rode  along  the  lines,  "  praise  God 
in  your  hearts,  and  we  may  praise  Him  this 
night  aloud  when  we  have  smitten  His  foes." 

As  the  southerly  march  began,  that  march 
on  which  so  much  depended,  Standish  glanced 
sideways  at  his  Cornet,  noticing  with  some 
wonder  how  the  look  of  long  and  long  re- 
pressed weariness  was  burnt  away.     He  won- 

107 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

dered  too,  as  he  had  done  often  before,  how 
much  Strong  guessed  of  his  own  intervention 
with  Cromwell.  The  Cornet  had  taken  his 
place  again  as  one  recalled  by  the  Lord  to  do 
His  work,  and  yet  if  he  divined  nothing  of  the 
part  which  his  Captain  had  played,  why,  Stand- 
ish  asked  himself,  should  he  follow  him  with 
so  tense  a  watchfulness.  And  then  the  swing 
of  the  march  mounting  to  blood  and  brain, 
Standish  forgot  to  ask  himself  anything  save 
whether  their  flank  attack  would  be  successful. 
There,  straight  ahead  as  they  moved  on  the 
village  of  Winterbourne,  lay  Church  Speen, 
some  two  miles  distant  beyond  the  river  Lam- 
bourne.  And  there  Prince  Maurice  was  en- 
camped with  a  goodly  part  of  the  King's  army, 
while  somewhat  away  to  the  left  lay  Donning- 
ton  Castle,  the  gallant  stronghold  which  had 
so  long  defied  the  Puritan  attacks,  and  the  town 
of  Newbury,  now  held  by  the  Royalists.  Be- 
yond them  again  was  Manchester's  army  wait- 
ing the  signal  to  take  its  part  in  the  attack. 
The  Cavaliers  were  outnumbered ;  let  them  be 
outmanoeuvred  as  well,  and  the  Parliament 
might  reap  a  complete  victory  indeed.  God  ! 
how  the  march  lagged,  labouring  by  hilly  and 
difficult  ways,  swinging  about  to  escape  the 
watchfulness  of  the  enemy  and  the  raking  fire 

108 


On  Newbury  Field 


from  the  Castle  guns ;  swerving,  circling,  when 
their  desire  was  to  strike  a  bulletrstraight  path 
to  their  foes.  Standish  looked  back  at  his  men ; 
the  ranks  had  been  thinned  by  the  cruelty  of 
an  inclement  autumn,  and  the  soldiers  who 
were  in  their  places  were  haggard  with  hunger 
and  weariness,  were  ragged  and  footsore.  The 
Captain's  eye  singled  out  a  sullen  face  here  and 
there,  pressed  men  those,  he  knew,  forced  to  an 
unwilling  service,  and  his  own  sense  of  justice 
ached  resentfully  on  their  behalf.  But  most 
were  with  him  heart  and  soul,  and  did  not  even 
need  the  encouraging  words  he  tossed  back  to 
them,  telling  of  food  and  shelter  in  the  con- 
quered Rojalist  camp.  One  lad  sat  bent  over 
his  saddle-bow  in  a  lifeless  fashion.  Standish 
paused  and  spoke  to  him  as  he  rode  by ;  the 
boy  was  an  Ely  'prentice  not  three  months  en- 
listed and  dying  in  his  stirrups  from  hardship 
and  exposure.  At  his  Captain's  greeting  he 
gave  him  a  smile  of  hectic  triumph. 

"  I  can  sit  my  horse  till  we  reach  them,"  he 
gasped,  "  and  the  Lord  wrill  grant  me  to  die 
fighting  for  Him." 

"  Tis  the  end  we  all  stand  ready  to  welcome," 
answered  Standish  gravely. 

As  he  galloped  back  to  his  post  he  saw  that 
Cornet  Strong  had  turned  to  the  young  soldier 

109 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

and  was  speaking  to  him  with  a  most  transfig- 
uring gentleness.  'Twas  strange  how  those  in 
need  or  suffering  seldom  saw  cause  to  shrink 
from  that  stern-visaged  officer. 

Westward  now,  the  river  still  to  be  forded  and 
the  sun  already  mounting  towards  noon.  Would 
they  find  Prince  Maurice  warned,  alert  behind 
his  earthworks  ?  Cromwell's  cavalry  were 
moving  in  company  with  the  forces  of  Sir  Wil- 
liam Waller  and  those  of  Essex,  still  fierce  from 
their  Cornish  defeat.  So  it  came  about  that 
many  of  those  who  fought  as  brothers-in-arms 
were  wholly  strangers  to  each  other.  Standish 
gave  small  heed  therefore  when  an  officer  in 
the  uniform  and  orange  scarf  of  Essex's  men 
came  riding  up  from  the  rear,  where  the  in- 
fantry and  artillery  were  moving  heavily  on. 
Something  in  the  gallant  carriage  of  the  lithe 
young  figure  caught  his  eye  for  an  instant  but 
he  could  not  see  the  rider's  face,  for  the  man 
was  looking  intently  Southward  and  so  turned 
away.  It  so  chanced  that  the  solitary  officer, 
who  must  have  been  far  astray  from  his  own 
regiment,  was  holding  a  course  which  would 
bring  him  close  to  Standish' s  troop.  Casting  a 
glance  in  that  direction  he  swerved  and  set  off 
at  a  leisurely  pace  towards  Donnington.  He 
rode  in  a  slow  and  unconcerned    fashion,  till 

110 


On  Newbury  Field 


there  rose  behind  him  a  single  stern  outcry 
which  in  an  instant  goaded  him  to  panic  speed. 
The  shout  was  "  Seize  the  spy  ! "  and  it  came  in 
Cornet  Strong's  voice.  Amazed  and  half  in- 
credulous Standish  glanced  at  the  flying  figure 
and  swift  fear  leaped  upon  him.  One  man,  one 
word  would  be  enough  to  warn  the  Royalists 
and  perchance  frustrate  the  work.  At  all  haz- 
ards that  wild  rider  must  be  headed  back,  he 
must  not  cross  Lambourne  River  before  them. 

Standish  knew  himself  better  mounted  than 
most  of  his  companions,  so  without  waiting 
orders  and  heedless  of  the  bullets  whose  range 
he  must  cross,  he  dashed  out  to  intercept  the 
horseman.  But  the  fugitive  was  well 
mounted,  and  rode  at  guilty  speed.  Saving 
that  his  place  in  the  march  had  brought  him 
nearer  the  front,  Standish  would  have  had 
scant  chance  of  accomplishing  his  purpose. 
On  they  dashed  almost  parallel  with  each 
other,  grey  horse  and  roan  horse,  but  the  grey 
still  nearer  the  river,  beyond  which  lay  Speen 
and  the  Royalists.  If  the  roan  horse  could 
outspeed  him,  its  rider  might  swing  about  and 
dash  straight  Southward.  But  that  Standish 
swore  he  should  not  do.  Down  the  slope  of 
the  hill  from  Boxford  they  dashed,  across  the 
heathy  open,  sweet  with  wild  scents  from  the 

111 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

trampled  ground.  Then  a  hedge  flung  itself 
across  their  path ;  the  roan  horse  checked  at 
it  and  the  grey  strained  nearer,  almost  within 
pistol  shot.  Almost ;  so  nearly  that  when  both 
had  crashed  across  the  hedge,  it  might  have 
seemed  that  the  roan  horse  was  riderless,  with 
but  a  cloak  tossed  across  the  saddle.  For  his 
rider  had  thrown  himself  forward  and  lay  half 
out  of  the  saddle,  clinging  with  one  arm  across 
his  charger's  neck.  He  must  be  a  brave  man, 
Standish  thought  grimly,  to  play  the  coward 
so  openly.  Nearer,  still  nearer,  in  a  rush  of 
parted  air,  in  a  fierce  singleness  of  purpose,  so 
close  that  Standish  ventured  a  shot  at  the  fly- 
ing figure,  but  his  aim  was  shaken  and  the 
bullet  whizzed  wide.  The  Puritan  set  his 
teeth  over  an  oath,  vowing  that  he  would  yet 
bring  down  horse  or  rider  and  challenge  the 
man's  right  to  that  orange  scarf,  which  was 
trailing  loose  by  now,  brushing  wild  grass  and 
brambles  as  he  rode.  Standish  gave  the 
rowels  to  his  horse  but  the  roan  was  drawing: 
away,  the  grey,  more  heavily  weighted,  la- 
bouring in  breath  and  stride  and  flecking  his 
breast  with  blown  foam.  But  already  behind 
Standish  other  Parliamentarians  were  joining 
in  the  chase,  one  an  officer  of  Waller,  more 
lightly  accoutred.     The   fugitive  was  cut  off 

112 


On  Newbury  Field 


from  the  river,  hemmed  in  on  the  South  and 
West.  Remained  but  to  save  himself  as  he 
might  and  he  was  quick  to  see  it.  Wheeling 
sharply  about  he  headed  due  North  and  the 
space  between  pursuer  and  pursued  soon 
widened.  If  there  was  any  doubt  as  to 
whether  the  chase  were  a  mistaken  one  the 
quarry  saw  fit  to  end  that  doubt.  When  he 
was  well  out  of  range  making  for  the  shelter 
of  Bussock  Wood,  he  drew  himself  once  more 
erect  in  the  saddle.  Loosening  the  scarf  he 
wore  he  waved  it  at  his  pursuers  with  a  deb- 
onair defiance  and  then,  dropping  the  Parlia- 
ment badge  before  his  horse,  he  rode  across 
and  left  it  trodden  on  the  ground.  A  moment 
more  and  the  trees  had  swallowed  him  up. 

Between  satisfaction  and  discomfiture  Stand- 
ish  returned  to  his  post.  The  spy  had  not 
been  captured,  but  he  would  scarce  reach 
Prince  Maurice  in  time  to  warn  him.  Cornet 
Strong  looked  at  him  searchingly  as  he  drew 
near. 

"You  knew  him,  Captain?  Yon  was  your 
Papist  prisoner,  O'Neil." 

Standish  flushed  and  frowned. 

"  Madness,  Cornet.    O'Neil  pledged  his  word 
and  were  it  not  so,  you  must  have  been  keen 
of  sight  indeed  to  know  him  thus." 
h  113 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

"  It  may  be  that  I  knew  by  a  truer  warning 
than  sight,"  answered  Strong.  "  He  is  your 
evil  angel." 

There  was  scant  time  for  dispute  or  ques- 
tion, for  now  their  front  files  had  reached  the 
river,  startling  the  careless  Royalist  guards 
who  kept  slack  watch  beyond  it.  There  was 
but  a  brief  and  scattering  flurry  of  fight,  and 
then  the  ford  was  clear  and  the  tired  horses 
plashed  warily  into  the  flowing  brown  current. 

Then  the  march  swung  Southward  again, 
Horse  and  Foot  pressing  on,  threading  the 
narrow  lanes  between  hedges,  where  the 
beech  leaves  still  clung  in  burnished  bronze, 
and  where  the  holly  armed  its  mimic  entrench- 
ments. How  in  this  bewilderment  of  narrow 
ways  could  the  dreaded  Horse  find  place  for 
their  sweeping  charge  ?  And  now  the  high 
ground  was  reached  between  Stock  Cross  and 
the  Wickham  road,  and  all  the  Kennet  Valley 
opened  before  them.  There  was  a  hard  held 
pause  while  the  infantry  laboured  up  and  the 
slow-moving  guns.  Softly  across  the  jangled 
undertone  of  grinding  hoofs  and  clashing  har- 
ness came  the  remonstrant  call  of  the  church 
bells. 

The  sun  dipped  from  his  noon  height  and 
the  hour  for  the  attack  had  come.     Cromwell 

114 


On  Newbury  Field 


and  his  men  were  on  the  left  wing  of  the 
forces  and  so  nearer  to  the  distant  menace  of 
the  Castle.  But  it  could  not  be  the  Horse 
which  could  mount  Prince  Maurice's  entrench- 
ments ;  for  that  the  Foot  were  pushed  forward 
with  a  "  forlorn  hope  "  flung  far  ahead,  Essex's 
veterans,  fierce  to  retrieve  their  Cornish  dis- 
grace. But  before  the  grapple  could  come  of 
man  against  man  and  musket  with  pike, 
Prince  Maurice's  well-mounted  guns  had  their 
part  to  play.  Through  Horse  and  Foot  alike 
the  great  balls  and  the  deadlier  chain  shot 
ploughed  their  narrow  lanes  of  death  and  dis- 
ablement. And  the  men  flinched  restively 
and  strained  forward  to  the  easier  struggle  of 
hand  to  hand. 

Glancing  back  at  his  men  to  be  sure  that 
they  did  not  fail  him  even  by  too  sudden  a  for- 
ward move,  Standish  felt  the  mortal  wind  of 
one  of  the  Royalist  cannon  shot  rush  past  him. 
He  saw  where  the  missile  struck  which  had  so 
barely  escaped  him.  There  was  only  an  empty 
saddle  where  the  'prentice  lad  had  sat  his  horse 
till  he  reached  the  foe.  And  now  with  a  surge 
of  sound  and  a  foam  of  Bible-emblazoned  flags, 
the  Parliamentarians  hurled  themselves  forward 
against  the  paltry  earthworks  which  might  as 
easily  have  stemmed  the  sea.     Long  gaps  were 

115 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

cleft  by  the  cannon,  were  filled,  were  cleft 
again.  And  still  Essex's  soldiers  pressed  up 
against  the  guns,  their  own  guns  which  they 
had  lost  in  Cornwall,  their  guns  which  they 
loved  and  yearned  to,  even  while  the  iron 
speech  of  them  tore  screaming  souls  out  of 
mangled  bodies.  How  could  they  fail  to  re- 
claim them?  So  the  men  swarmed  up  the 
height  and  over  the  barrier  and  caught  at  the 
smoking,  silenced  muzzles  as  friend  grasps  at 
friend.  "  Revenge  for  Cornwall !  "  went  up  in 
a  great  shout,  and  few  Cornish  men  in  Maurice's 
army  found  quarter  and  life  that  day. 

Through  the  cowering  little  village  of  Speen, 
over  the  marshy  fields  by  the  Kennet,  circling 
by  the  little  church,  with  its  Sunday  chiming 
struck  still,  went  the  melee  of  pursuit  and  rally. 
On  the  wide  heath  between  Speen  and  New- 
bury rode  the  King  himself  with  his  Life 
Guards,  and  for  a  time  the  fight  eddied  thick 
about  the  Sovereign's  figure.  But  in  that  fierce 
rush  and  recoil  Ironside  and  his  men  took  no 
part.  Holding  his  troops  in  a  very  agony  of 
restraint  Cromwell  swung  them  about  towards 
what  he,  and  he  alone,  had  descried  as  the 
weakest  part  of  the  Royal  line.  There  he 
clashed  on  Sir  Humphrey  Benett's  brigade  and 
every  man  could  have  his  fill  of  fighting.     For 

116 


On  Newbury  Field 


a  few  breathless  instants  they  grappled.  Then 
the  steel  line  of  the  Royalists  bent,  drew  tense 
again  in  desperate  rally,  and  shivered.  And  in 
the  thick  of  that  moment's  success  Standish,  who 
had  been  flung  forward  till  he  rode  well  nigh 
abreast  with  his  leader,  saw  Cromwell's  eyes 
straining  away  from  the  field,  away  from  the 
work  before  him,  in  one  fierce  eastward  glance. 
Now  was  the  time  for  Manchester,  summoned 
by  the  signal  of  their  cannonading,  to  strike  in 
and  do  his  part.  And  Manchester  lay  inactive 
beyond  Shaw,  while  the  sun  dipped  lower  and 
the  best  blood  of  the  soldiers  of  the  cause  was 
poured  out  unavailingly.  In  that  din  of  en- 
countering, no  outcry  could  have  been  heard, 
but  Standish  read  in  his  leader's  face  the  curse 
he  was  uttering  in  his  soul,  and  knew  with  an 
utter  assurance  that  Manchester  would  never 
again  command  England's  armies. 

So  little  more  and  full  triumph  would  be 
theirs.  But  seconding  Benett's  shattered  bri- 
gade came  the  Royalist  troop,  headed  by  a  gaily 
bedizened  youth  in  azure  and  cloth  of  silver  who 
rode  bareheaded,  his  amber  hair  atoss,  facing 
Cromwell's  iron  troopers  with  an  heroic,  effem- 
inate face.  The  succour  brought  by  Lord  Ber- 
nard Stuart  gave  the  Royalists  a  chance  to  rally 
and  to  retreat  fighting.     They  did  not  retreat 

117 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

far,  for  Goring  led  up  reinforcements  and  Crom- 
well, with  the  Royalist  Horse  ready  to  charge 
in  his  front  and  the  guns  of  Donnington  Castle 
commanding  his  position,  was  in  no  case  to 
press  success  further.  Nay — it  was  no  longer 
success,  and  for  the  first  time  Standish  heard 
his  Chief  give  the  word  of  retreat.  Finding 
shelter  behind  one  of  the  hedges  which  had  so 
hampered  their  advance  they  fell  doggedly 
back,  sick  with  anger  and  the  sense  of  vain 
effort  and  wasted  life.  The  sun  had  set ;  there 
was  only  a  smirch  of  angry  red  above  the  grey 
horizon.  The  men  began  to  feel  their  wounds, 
and  more  than  one  drawing  rein  discovered 
Death  riding  with  him.  Close  at  Standish's  side 
a  man  fell  to  shivering  violently  in  his  saddle. 

"  Are  you  hurt,  Friend  ?  "  inquired  the  Cap- 
tain peering  through  the  dimness. 

"  No,"  answered  the  other  with  difficulty,  "  I 
am  but  cold — the  night  strikes  chill  and  this 
thick  dew — "  He  passed  a  hand  across  his 
corselet  and  drew  it  away  wet,  but  red.  His 
shivering  increased  till  he  was  shaking  gro- 
tesquely, then  rigid  in  an  instant  he  pitched 
from  his  horse. 

Standish  looked  away  and  found  himself  face 
to  face  with  Cromwell. 

118 


On  Newbury  Field 


"Have  you  lost  many?"  asked  the  General 
in  a  dulled  voice. 

"  I  fear  it,  Sir,"  answered  the  young  officer, 
"  but  I  cannot  reckon  the  fallen." 

Looking  into  his  chief's  face  as  he  spoke, 
Standish  saw  that  it  was  working  uncontrol- 
lably. 

"  Lord  God,"  the  General  muttered,  "  I  have 
led  Thy  people  into  death,  yet  not  on  me  the 
guilt.     Let  him  bear  it  who  hath  undone  Israel." 

Standish  watched  him  as  he  rode  on  and  saw 
him  draw  rein  at  Colonel  Whalley's  side.  The 
two  were  deep  in  conference  for  a  space.  In 
Whalley's  implacable  countenance  there  was 
only  bitterness  and  wrath,  nothing  of  the  heart- 
wrung  grief  which  for  the  moment  had  changed 
the  face  of  Ironside.  Once  as  they  talked  Crom- 
well pointed  with  a  fierce  gesture  across  the 
hedges  to  the  open  ground  so  nearly  won.  But 
Whalley  shook  his  head  in  answer. 

"  Even  when  the  moon  arises  she  will  give 
but  scanty  light,  and  we  should  be  tangled 
among  impassable  ways." 

Cromwell  nodded  grimly  over  the  answer  he 
foreknew,  and  then  rode  on,  the  men  he  passed 
taking  quick  heart  from  his  presence. 

The  hours  which  followed  seemed  unending 
to  Nathan  Standish.     He  was  wearied  out  with 

119 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

the  struggle,  following  on  nine  days  of  contin- 
uous marching  with  no  quarters  save  field  and 
hedgerow.  What  food  and  water  he  had  was 
given,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  such  of  his  men 
as  were  wounded  and  had  need  thereof.  So 
when  at  length  having  brought  his  troop  into 
such  order  as  might  be,  Standish  flung  himself 
on  the  ground  beside  horse  and  weapons,  he 
found  that  he  could  not  rest.  He  was  aching 
with  the  November  cold  and  every  atom  of  his 
body  craved  savagely  for  food.  Rising,  he  be- 
gan to  pace  to  and  fro  among  the  silent  company 
of  the  sleepers  and  the  dead.  Some  of  the 
fallen  were  huddled  and  coiled,  snatched  in  the 
midst  of  a  last  desperate  defence  of  life  ;  others 
again  lay  extended,  stretched  so  flatly  along 
the  ground  it  seemed  as  if  the  earth  were  al- 
ready drawing  them  peacefully,  imperceptibly 
into  itself.  And  among  those  stricken  with 
pitiful  swiftness,  crouched  or  crawled  the 
wounded,  seeking  a  help  they  were  but  little 
like  to  find.  Standish  knew  of  the  cruel 
dearth  of  surgeons  and  was  wondering  what 
rough  aid  he  himself  could  give  when  his  atten- 
tion was  sharply  called  from  the  forlorn  wreck- 
age of  the  fight. 

A  sound — but  was  it  a  sound,  or  was  it  not 
rather  a  dull  tremor  of  the  very  ground  which 

120 


On  Newbury  Field 


beat  upwards  to  him  where  he  stood  ?  And 
whatever  it  was,  sound  or  echo  or  stir  of  the 
troubled  air,  came  from  Donnington  and  New- 
bury, from  the  enemy.  Standish  flung  himself 
at  full  length,  doffed  his  steel  cap  and  laid  ear 
to  ground.  He  listened  till  the  blood  drummed 
loud  in  his  head,  drowning  all  distant  noise. 
And  yet  when  he  rose  again  he  was  aware  that 
beneath  the  silence  beat  somewhere  far  away  a 
muffled  tumult.  Was  the  King  marching,  re- 
treating perhaps,  with  Manchester  moveless  be- 
yond him  and  Cromwell  for  once  unready? 
Strung  to  passionate  tenseness,  Standish  looked 
to  sword  and  pistol  and  made  ready  for  a  des- 
perate hazard.  He  looked  about  him  for  a  sight 
of  Cromwell  or  his  own  Colonel  but  could  see  no 
one.  Time  must  not  be  wasted.  Bending  over 
the  first  of  his  own  officers  he  came  to  he  called 
to  him  softly.  Lieutenant  Flynt  sighed  and 
sat  up. 

"You,  Captain— another  charge?" 
li  Hush  !  "  whispered  Standish  imperatively, 
u  there  is  movement  there  ahead,  I  must  see 
what  is  toward.  If  I  fire  two  pistol  shots  with 
the  space  to  count  ten  betwixt,  seek  out  one  of 
our  Generals  and  report  movements  in  the 
King's  army.  Keep  the  men  well  in  hand  till 
I  return." 

121 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

He  slipped  away,  skirting  a  hedge  and  then 
plashing  into  marshy  ground  where  it  seemed 
that  each  sucking  footfall  was  loud  enough  to 
waken  an  army.  Suddenly  he  became  aware 
that  another  step  was  sounding  beside  him. 
Wheeling  about  he  met  Cornet  Strong's  eyes. 
For  an  instant  they  scanned  each  other  in  the 
struggling  moonlight  and  it  was  the  Cornet  who 
first  gave  the  challenge. 

"  Whither  go  you  ?  "  he  whispered  and 
though  his  face  was  set  hard,  his  glance 
flinched  as  if  he  feared  the  answer  he  de- 
manded. 

"  There  is  a  stir  among  the  enemy,"  an- 
swered Standish  below  his  breath,  "  get  you 
back,  Cornet,  ere  you  stumble  into  a  trap." 

Strong's  eyes  lightened  with  a  rapturous, 
incredulous  relief,  but  aloud  he  said  only : 

"  May  God  forsake  me  when  I  forsake  thee." 

For  a  time  they  pushed  on,  availing  them- 
selves of  every  tuft  of  shadow,  and  then  dark 
out  of  the  darkness  bulked  sheer  upon  them  a 
troop  of  Horse.  Standish  set  his  teeth  and 
thought  of  the  signal.  Could  he  retreat  unob- 
served? Scarcely,  for  behind  him  lay  broad 
sheen  of  moonlight.  He  decided  desperately 
to  give  the  sign  and  take  what  might  come 
after.     Once  his  pistol  rang  out,  but  before  he 

122 


On  Newbury  Field 


could  fire  the  second  time  the  enemy  were  on 
him.  Followed  a  whirl  of  shots  and  shouting 
which  might,  Standish  trusted,  prove  signal 
enough  in  itself.  For  a  space  he  fought 
blindly  in  a  tangle  of  shadows,  steel-edged  with 
moonlight.  He  felt  Strong  beside  him  in  the 
press  and  the  knowledge  of  that  nearness  car- 
ried strange  help  to  his  heart.  Then  a  shear- 
ing blow  crashed  down  on  his  sword  arm  and 
seemed  to  shatter  it  and  his  senses  in  one. 
The  ground  rose  up  and  engulfed  him  in  solid 
blackness. 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 


X 

Within  Donnington  JValls 

WHAT  followed  was  only  an  endless 
and  agonized  jolting  and,  after  an 
interminable  half  hour,  the  relief 
of  a  halt.  Little  cared  Standish  to 
consider  the  earthworks  and  walls 
of  Donnington  Castle  when  he  was  carried 
through  its  gates.  Someone  was  talking  above 
him,  about  him,  as  he  was  flung  down  on  what 
did  duty  for  a  pallet. 

"  We  leave  you  our  rebel  prisoners  with  our 
great  guns,  his  Majesty's  treasure,  and  our  mar- 
tial reputation,  all  to  be  reclaimed  at  our  lei- 
sure." 

So  with  jesting  which  had  a  bitter  edge 
enough,  the  Royalist  officer  departed.  There 
was  a  tumult  of  coming  and  going,  of  haste  and 
suppressed  noise,  and  the  Castle  sank  again  into 
watchful  quiet.     The  next  day  brought  Stand- 

124 


IVithin  Donnington  Walls 

ish  strength  enough  to  consider  his  plight. 
The  hurt  in  his  arm  was  like  to  withhold  him 
from  the  handling  of  a  sword  for  many  a  day  to 
come,  even  without  the  help  of  prison  walls. 
The  Royalist  surgeon  came  to  look  to  his  wound, 
giving  him  careful  tendance  and  divers  preg- 
nant exhortations  on  the  sin  of  rebellion.  The 
bone  had  been  broken,  so  he  informed  his  pa- 
tient, and  the  sword  shearing  along  the  arm  had 
grievously  gashed  and  torn  the  flesh. 

"  You  may  account  yourself  fortunate,"  ob- 
served the  surgeon,  "  that  you  find  yourself 
a  prisoner  here,  rather  than  a  free  man  in  the 
town  or  the  fields  out  yonder.  For  truly  I  give 
my  anxious  care  to  all  which  fall  under  my  min- 
istrations, to  an  enemy  as  well  as  to  the  Gener- 
alissimo of  the  King's  forces,  the  which  is  even 
now  lying  wounded  within  these  same  walls." 

"  The  Earl  of  Brentford  here  ?  "  asked  Stand- 
ish  trying  to  steady  his  aching  head  and  force 
himself  to  some  interest  in  larger  issues.  "  So 
the  King's  army  was  in  retreat  ?"  he  added  af- 
ter a  moment,  thinking  aloud. 

But  the  surgeon  was  too  much  busied  to  no- 
tice the  observation. 

The  King  in  retreat — that  meant  doubtless 
that  the  Parliament  forces  were  still  encamped 
near  the  Castle.     A  day  or  two  might  bring  a 

125 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

renewed  assault  and  freedom  for  the  Puritan 
captives.  Standish  had  in  vain  attempted  to 
learn  the  whereabouts  of  Cornet  Strong  from 
his  friendly  surgeon.  He  also  had  been  made 
prisoner  it  appeared,  but  unwounded,  so  he  was 
quite  without  the  range  of  the  good  gentleman's 
sympathies. 

"  I  hear  that  he  attempted  some  holding  forth 
to  the  soldiery,"  the  surgeon  had  remarked  in 
passing,  "  so  doubtless  he  hath  been  so  placed 
that  he  can  do  himself  no  mischief  by  his  zeal. 
'  Tis  I  should  judge  one  of  a  melancholic  and 
fiery  disposition  born  under  the  conjunction  of 
Saturn  and  Mars."  And  therewith  he  dismissed 
the  theme. 

Standish  himself  was  subjected  to  no  harsh 
usage,  and  was  lodged  in  a  tiny  nook  of  a  cham- 
ber opening  from  the  general  guardroom.  A 
quieter  resting  place  might  have  been  desired 
for  a  man  racked  with  feverish  pain.  But  the 
surgeon  had  protested  against  the  stifling  air  of 
the  dungeons  for  his  prisoner,  and  Standish  was 
fain  to  be  grateful  for  the  good  intent. 

The  loud  and  often  ribald  jesting,  the  songs 
and  laughter  of  the  men  which  rang  through 
the  heavy  oaken  door,  tortured  Standish's  brain 
at  times  till  he  could  have  wished  himself  in  the 
deepest  of  the  Castle's  vaults.     But  that  same 

126 


Within  Donnington  IValls 

nearness  to  the  soldiery  brought  him  also  some 
rough  kindliness  and  companionship.  The  im- 
prisonment was  not  always  rigorous,  for  the 
young  Captain's  wound  and  general  weakness 
left  him  in  no  state  to  attempt  escape.  And 
one  of  the  Royalist  soldiers,  a  big  sergeant  of 
Howard's  Dragoons,  had  taken  something  of  a 
fancy  to  the  Parliamentarian  and  used  to  come 
swaggering  in  to  hold  him  company.  From  this 
fellow,  Jack  Hickson  by  name,  Standish  learned 
that  part  at  least  of  the  Parliament  forces  was 
encamped  at  hand,  and  that  the  garrison  of  the 
Castle  was  in  hourly  expectation  of  an  assault. 
So  near  then  lay  rescue  and  freedom ;  and  yet 
their  first  coming  to  the  prisoners  might  be 
through  a  cannon-rent  breach  by  which  Death 
could  enter  as  well.  And,  as  if  to  lay  stress  on 
that  thought,  came  later  ever  and  anon  the  re- 
verberant, unforgettable  shocks  when  the  Par- 
liament ordnance  played  against  the  Castle. 
Sometimes  would  come  a  single  dull  thud,  as  a 
great  ball  struck  and  rebounded  from  the  shaken 
walls ;  sometimes  it  was  a  shattering  crash  as 
the  cross  shot  tore  its  way  through  the  battle- 
ment, sending  down  showers  of  fragments  in  a 
patter  of  lessening  echoes.  The  Castle  guns 
sent  out  their  thunderous  reply,  and  so  the  iron- 
uttered  interchange  went  on,  but  still  there 

127 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

came  no  assault.  Instead  there  came  a  very 
different  break  into  those  stormy,  slow  passing 
November  days.  One  night  Standish  was 
startled  from  sleep  by  the  clamorous  shouting 
of  the  soldiers,  and  when  his  friend,  the  sergeant, 
came  pitching  across  the  threshold,  Standish 
could  see  beyond  him,  how  the  men  were  gath- 
ered in  eager  groups  forgetful  of  tankard  and 
dice  box.  The  sidelong,  smoky  flare  of  the 
torches  flung  distorted  shadows  on  the  stone 
wall,  caught  at  gay  trappings,  torn  and  tar- 
nished by  rough  usage,  and  gleamed  on  head- 
piece and  corselet  showing  here  and  there, 
bright  on  the  brightness,  the  burnished  track 
left  by  sword  or  pike.  Standish  lay  staring  at 
the  flickering  scene  with  a  moment's  Puritan 
sense  that  this  and  all  else  about  him  was  but  a 
vain  show, — a  pageant  passing  away.  His  sol- 
dier interest  swiftly  mastered  the  mood  and  he 
looked  up  at  the  burly  sergeant. 

"What's  to  do,  Hickson?"  he  queried, 
"  that  your  fellows  seem  so  blithe  ?  " 

"There's  enough  to  do,"  answered  the  ser- 
geant cheerily,  "his  Majesty  hath  met  with 
Prince  Rupert  and  is  marching  hitherward  to 
relieve  us.  '  Sblood,  you  can  almost  hear  the 
great  beacon  that's  to  welcome  them,  crackling 
on  the  Gate  Tower.     And  hark  but  to  that " — 

128 


Within  Donning  ton  Walls 

as  the  roar  of  the  ordnance  leaped  out — 
"  Manchester  and  Cromwell  and  the  rest  will 
scarce  stir  from  their  snug  entrenchments  to- 
night." 

"  Manchester  and  Cromwell ! "  exclaimed 
the  Captain  starting  up  in  complete  forgetful- 
ness  of  his  wound — ■'  then  the  whole  Parliament 
Army  is  here — sure  they'll  never  suffer  the 
Castle  be  relieved  without  a  blow." 

Yet  this  was  what  chanced.  For  on  Sunday, 
the  tenth  of  November;  the  Royalist  Army, 
having  gained  the  heath  without  molestation, 
encamped  about  the  Castle.  That  day  there 
was  great  stir  within  those  staunchly  defended 
walls,  and  the  guardroom  was  emptied  of  its 
inmates,  as  the  soldiers  were  drawn  forth  to 
give  martial  welcome  to  the  incoming  guests. 
Last  of  all  went  Sergeant  Hickson  and  before 
he  departed  he  came  to  lean  in  the  doorway  of 
Standish's  prison.  The  man  was  just  comfort- 
ably and  companionably  drunk,  and  this  fact 
increased  his  good  fellowship  and  diminished 
his  sense  of  a  distance  between  himself  and 
the  prisoner. 

"  Sorry  I  am  to  do  it,  lad,"  he  averred,  "  but 

I  doubt  I  must  draw  bolt  and  turn  key  on  you, 

for  look  you,  we  are  somewhat  over  near  the 

Gate,  and  a  wound  doth  not  keep  a  man  dis- 

I  129 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

abled  for  ever.  So,  though  'tis  a  cursed 
shame — but  then  I  forgot  you'll  scarce  relish 
the  brave  show,  being  a  damned  Roundhead." 

"  Why,  you  might  spare  your  oaths  and  take 
me  with  you  to  try,"  smiled  Standish.  And 
to  his  no  small  amaze  the  man  took  up  his 
laughing  suggestion  with  drunken  gravity. 

''Why,  so  I  might  and  maybe  'twill  show 
you  the  error  of  your  ways,  as  that  canting 
comrade  of  yours  hath  it.  Come,  then,  brave 
lad,  and  take  a  drink  to  steady  yourself  withal." 

Standish  was  fain  to  accept  the  offer,  for 
when  he  attempted  walking  his  weakness  made 
itself  felt,  despite  the  restless  stir  in  every  vein 
which  answered  to  the  growing  tumult  with- 
out. Gripping  at  Hickson's  arm  with  his  left 
hand,  and  inwardly  praising  Heaven  for  the 
Cavalier  slackness  of  discipline,  he  soon  found 
himself  in  the  shifting  press  of  soldiers  in  the 
Great  Hall. 

It  was  a  goodly  show  which  he  looked  upon. 
There  in  the  body  of  the  Hall  crossed  and  re- 
crossed  men  in  the  red  of  Prince  Rupert's 
Guard  of  Firelocks,  in  the  green  of  Northamp- 
ton's regiment,  and  in  the  pomp  of  the  King's 
Life  Guard.  The  Cavaliers  were  uniform  in 
nothing  save  in  their  Royalist  scarves  of  red 
and   in   the  air  of  half-defiant  gaiety   which 

130 


Within  Donnington  Walls 

they  flaunted  alike  through  triumphs  and  re- 
verses. Standish  watched  the  brave  medley  of 
colours  and  the  thought  rose  in  him  of  his  own 
troop,  of  Cromwell's  Horse,  all  sombreness  and 
steel. 

Over  noising  all  other  sounds  broke  a  shat- 
tering fanfare  of  trumpets  and  up  the  suddenly 
opened  lane  came  a  little  group  of  gentlemen. 
Standish  heard  nothing  of  the  muttered  com- 
ments of  the  sergeant  who  had  gripped  his  arm 
with  as  gaoler-like  an  air  as  might  be.  All 
his  thoughts  were  with  the  oncoming  officers. 
That,  he  guessed  by  his  bearing,  must  be  Sir 
John  Boys,  the  Governor;  very  proudly  he 
played  the  host  to  that  long  assailed,  unyield- 
ing stronghold  of  his.  And  there — Standish 
drew  breath  with  a  sudden  leap  of  the  blood 
disallowed  of  his  will — that  was  the  King. 
The  young  Puritan  drew  himself  erect  and 
sought  for  the  hostility  which  was  not  chal- 
lenged by  King  Charles,  wan  and  wearied  in 
his  armour.  He  glanced  at  the  Cavaliers  sur- 
rounding their  Sovereign ;  not  a  name  there 
but  would  ring  trumpetwise,  but  the  faces 
were  all  strange  to  him.  One  above  the  rest 
commanded  his  gaze ;  a  tall  man  with  flowing 
dark  hair  about  an  aquiline  face  and  intent, 
untiring  eyes. 

131 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

While  his  Majesty  and  Sir  John  exchanged 
grave  courtesies,  this  officer  was  scanning  the 
Hall,  the  thronged  soldiers,  with  a  falcon's 
scrutiny,  and  he  suddenly  vanished  ere  the 
ceremonies  were  done. 

The  Royal  Company  had  reached  the  end  of 
the  hall  by  now  and  was  pausing  on  the  dais. 
Looking  up  Standish  saw  how  the  brightening 
light  singled  out  the  stained  glass  scutcheon 
and  crest  in  a  window  near  the  King.  The 
Lion's  head  and  the  motto  leaped  out  at  him, 
"  Loiaulte  oublige"  Loyalty,  but  to  what ? 
The  Captain's  spirit  sprang  erect  in  a  strength 
born  of  loneliness.  He  was  but  one  man  there 
amid  the  pomp  of  his  foes,  but  might  not  he 
too  prove  his  own  loyalty,  as  well  as  that  com- 
mander of  a  shot-riven  fortress  ? 

He  looked  about  him  to  find  that  the  for- 
ward surge  had  separated  him  from  his  friendly 
gaoler.  Around  him  the  soldiers  were  talking 
unreservedly  of  their  march.  They  were  to 
withdraw  from  the  Castle,  it  seemed,  and  make 
for  Oxford,  not  again  offering  battle  to  the 
enemy  entrenched  in  Newbury.  Many  a  gibe 
Standish  heard  upon  the  supineness  of  the 
Parliament's  Generals  in  allowing  the  Royalist 
Army  to  march  by  in  such  ordered  peaceful- 
ness.     Listening,  Standish  burned  with  a  sud- 

132 


JVithin  Donnington  Walls 

den  fierce  desire.  If  only  he  could  get  word 
to  his  own  forces,  could  they  but  know  that 
the  enemy  was  withdrawing  and  not  planning 
an  attack.  Surely  a  sudden  charge  on  their 
rear  might  accomplish  all  that  Newbury  fight 
had  left  undone.  And  then  while  he  pondered 
the  matter  helplessly,  it  flashed  upon  him  that 
since  Sergeant  Hickson  was  gone  there  was 
nothing  to  stamp  him  prisoner.  Corselet  and 
scarf  had  been  removed  when  first  his  wound 
was  dressed,  his  hair  too  had  grown  longer,  and 
there  was  naught  to  mark  him  out  among 
the  Royalist  soldiers,  some  of  whom  were 
wounded  and  as  haggard  as  he  could  be.  The 
great  gates  must  be  open,  for  some  of  the 
King's  guns  were  being  dismounted  and  re- 
moved. What  if  amid  the  press  of  soldiers 
coming  and  going  Standish  should  slip  through, 
and  once  outside  the  Castle  take  his  chance  of 
threading  the  Royalist  lines.  True,  to  fail  in 
the  attempt  meant  death  most  like,  but  death 
in  how  good  a  cause.  Standish  glanced  at  the 
emblazoned  window  and  the  Royalist  motto 
spoke  rebellion  to  him.  " Loiaulte  oublige" 
Standish  turned  and  made  steadily  for  the 
door. 

What  an  endless  road  it  was,  and  how  hard 
to  rein  his  steps  to  slowness  and  compel  his 

133 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

movements  to  ease.  Along  the  great  hall, 
step  by  perilous  step  and  through  the  wide 
doorway  unchallenged ;  through  the  guard- 
room, emptied  now  of  its  clamorous  inmates, 
and  where  his  own  footfall  rang  hollow  alarms. 

The  courtyard  was  filled  with  a  hurrying 
throng,  but  no  one  noted  the  single  wounded 
soldier  making  his  way  along.  He  was  close 
now  to  the  great  Gate  Towers  frowning  grim 
wardership  upon  him.  The  portcullis  was 
raised,  though  the  open  space  was  half  blocked 
by  a  wagon  lumbering  heavily  out.  God! 
how  long  those  last  half  score  paces.  Stand- 
ish  mastered  the  shaking  of  his  limbs  and  de- 
fied the  racking  pain  in  his  wounded  arm. 
Beyond — so  near — lav  an  hazardous  freedom. 
Suddenly  from  the  Gate  Tower  on  his  right 
rang  a  quick,  sure  step. 

A  man  was  issuing  therefrom,  who  had 
doubtless  been  inspecting  the  battlements. 
Standish  forbade  himself  to  swerve  betray- 
ingly,  but  as  he  would  have  passed  on : 

"  How  now,  Friend  ? "  summoned  an  im- 
perious voice,  "  whither  would  you  so  quietly  ? 
I  took  you  for  a  prisoner  yonder  in  the  Hall." 

Standish  looked  up  to  meet  the  challenging 
eyes  of  the  officer  who  had  stood  at  the 
King's  right  hand.     He  knew  that  the  game 

134 


IVithin  Donnington  Walls 

was  lost  and  judged  himself  to  be  lost  as  well. 
But  at  least  he  would  speak  the  truth. 

"  I  am  a  prisoner,"  he  said  hardily,  "  and  I 
was  risking  an  escape  that  I  might  give  our 
leaders  word  of  your  intended  march." 

Whatever  result  Standish  awaited  from  his 
frank  avowal,  he  did  not  expect  the  sudden 
kindling  of  a  whimsical  smile  in  the  dark  eyes 
which  held  his  own. 

"No  more  but  that?"  queried  the  officer 
coolly.  "  Why,  we  will  send  a  Trumpet  to  in- 
form your  Generals  of  our  intent.  But  mark 
me,  they  will  not  fight  for  all  that." 

Standish  was  divided  between  anger  at  a  bit 
of  Cavalier  mockery  and  amazement  over 
Cavalier  foolhardiness.  Was  his  captor  jest- 
ing; or  would  such  an  incredible  message  be 
sent?  The  officer  had  the  air  of  a  man  used 
to  mean  his  words.  But  the  perplexity  was 
quickly  ended. 

"  Look  you  to  it,  Gerrard,"  said  the  Royalist, 
turning  to  a  companion  who  had  appeared  be- 
side him,  and  then  cutting  short  the  other's 
suggested  remonstrance, 

"  Tush,  man  if  they  take  us  at  our  word  '  tis 
all  the  better ;  I  am  wearied  of  prudence." 

The  gentleman  addressed  as  Gerrard  smiled, 
saluted   and   was  gone,   while  Standish  stood 

135 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

there  in  some  uncertainty  wondering  whether 
or  no  he  was  like  to  be  shot  for  his  attempt. 
He  decided  not  as  he  studied  his  captor's  face, 
though  all  its  lines  had  grown  grave  now  that 
the  jest  of  the  defiance  was  past. 

"  And  now  back  with  you,  man,"  ordered  the 
Royalist,  "  I  must  see  you  safe  in  ward,  lest  you 
deliver  up  the  Castle  for  us.  Nay,  then,  you 
will  be  soon  exchanged.  God  knows  we  have 
prisoners  to  redeem,"  he  added  sombrely. 

Standish  followed  obediently,  marvelling  into 
whose  hands  he  had  fallen,  yet  not  ill  content 
with  the  outcome  of  his  mad  endeavour.  Just 
as  they  entered  the  great  hall  their  path  was 
crossed  by  a  group  of  guards  escorting  another 
prisoner,  and  that  prisoner  Cornet  Strong.  The 
Royalist's  face  darkened  as  he  surveyed  the  Puri- 
tan soldier. 

"A  right  picture  of  a  fanatic,"  observed 
Gerrard,  who  had  regained  his  side. 

"  Aye,"  returned  the  other  scanning  the  Cor- 
net's figure,  "  and  one  of  Ironside's  troopers,  or 
I  mistake  me." 

At  sight  of  his  fellow  soldier,  Strong  halted, 
despite  his  guards,  and  stepped  forward  till  he 
stood  confronting  him. 

"  What  dost  thou  here,  Nathan  Standish  ?  " 
136 


"  '  SHALL    I    NOT    SAY    IT    WHICH    HATH    DELIVERED    RUPERT  S 
STANDARD    INTO    CROMWELL'S    HANDS  ?  '  ' 


Within  Donnington  Walls 

he  cried,  "  and  whither  art  thou  led  by  the  un- 
godly?" 

Standish  made  what  hurried  answer  he  could 
and  glanced  aside  at  his  captor,  half  wondering 
at  his  silence. 

The  Cavalier's  look  was  shadowed,  and  he 
was  watching  the  austere  and  alien  figure  as 
though  he  saw  more  before  him  than  a  single 
soldier.  Suddenly  he  flashed  from  his  mood 
into  laughter. 

"Your  godly  General  will  not  fight,  know 
you  that,  Saint?"  he  asked  with  a  scornful 
lightness. 

Strong  met  the  derision  unflinchingly. 

"  The  Lord  teacheth  our  hands  to  war,"  he 
averred,  "  and  verily  we  have  fought.  Shall  I 
not  say  it,  which  have  delivered  Rupert's  Stand- 
ard into  Cromwell's  hand  ?" 

There  was  a  pause  sharp  with  indrawn  breath. 
The  Royalist  had  gone  white  as  fire  at  the 
fiercest.     But  for  a  heart  beat  he  did  not  speak. 

"  Let  me  have  the  fellow  scourged  into  civil- 
ity, your  Highness,"  cried  Gerrard  starting  for- 
ward. 

But  Prince  Rupert  answered  incisively, 

"  Nay,  the  taunt  is  less  biting  than  the  jade 
Fortune  hath  favoured  us  withal.  Have  him 
into  ward,  but  without  mishandling." 

137 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

He  turned  and  looked  Cornet  Strong  in  the 
eyes  for  an  instant,  "  It  is  well  at  the  least,"  he 
said,  "  that  my  Standard  fell  not  into  the  hand 
of  a  coward." 

But  Strong  meeting  the  eyes  of  the  soldier 
Prince  answered  simply,  "  The  right  hand  of 
the  Lord  doeth  valiantly." 


Watching  the  Loophole 


XI 

Watching  the  Loophole 


OUICK  from  the  steel  and  the  purpose- 
ful stir  into  the  waiting  emptiness 
of  imprisonment ;  the  sharp  change 
was  one  to  be  faced  by  a  soldier.    Yet 
Standish  discovered  that  he  never 
had  faced  it,  and  the  reality  came  on  him  with 
an  incredible  ugliness,  even  after  his  brief  ex- 
perience in  the  guardroom. 

Dragged  away  from  Cornet  Strong,  the  Cap- 
tain had  yet  suffered  from  the  zeal  provoked  by 
his  comrade.  Despite  the  Prince's  command 
there  had  been  a  tumult  among  the  soldiers, 
who  had  caught  up  some  word  of  the  Cornet's 
defiance,  and  Standish's  wounded  arm  had  suf- 
fered cruellv  bv  the  rough  handling;.  Rousing 
from  unconsciousness,  he  found  himself  in  a 
tiny  chamber  which  might  have  belonged  to 
the  tower  or  the  cellars  of  the  Castle  ;  from  the 
dank  smell  and  muffling  of  all  noises  he  judged 

139 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

the  latter.  But  the  single  loophole  was  too 
high  to  allow  of  an  outward  glance.  Prisoners 
had  fared  worse,  doubtless ;  he  had  his  heap  of 
straw  to  himself  unless  the  rats  could  be  counted 
for  company.  But  Standish  in  his  desolation 
told  himself  that  an  edge  of  deliberate  malice 
would  have  been  easier  to  face.  Here  he  was 
merely  sunk  alive,  blotted  out.  A  prisoner  of 
war  might,  it  was  true,  be  soon  exchanged,  or 
he  might  be  overlooked,  and  Standish  knew 
himself  without  kindred  or  friends  in  power  to 
press  on  his  release. 

Day  came  and  ebbed  and  came  again.  The 
loophole  at  which  the  Captain  stared  was  dim 
grey,  was  blue,  was  blurred  with  clouds,  was 
peered  through  by  a  single  shaft  of  the  sun. 
Then  it  was  gray  again,  was  pricked  with  the 
steel  points  of  stars,  was  a  spot  of  windy  dark- 
ness felt  not  seen  against  the  solid  darkness  of 
the  stone. 

Standish  hated  the  loophole;  the  uneven 
shape  of  it,  with  a  jagged  chip  gone  from  one 
side,  grew  one  with  the  rust  of  inaction  and  the 
constant  pain  which  searched  his  arm.  He  had 
known  wounds  before,  and  taken  them  lightly 
enough,  helped  by  the  kindly,  rough  comrade- 
ship of  the  camp.  In  his  present  loneliness  his 
own  aching  body  grew  a  thing  separate,  hostile 

140 


IVatching  the  Loophole 


to  him,  and  he  began  to  fear  the  solitude  which 
he  had  welcomed.  True,  the  gaolers  came. 
One  of  them  was  a  swaggering,  red-faced  fel- 
low who  could  not  speak  without  falling  into 
forcible  oaths,  but  who  seemed  not  unkindly 
withal.  Through  him  Standish  once  endeav- 
oured to  send  a  protesting  message  to  the  Gov- 
ernor, and  the  man  leered  down  on  him  under- 
standingly. 

"  I'll  tell  him  you've  information  to  give. 
Curse  me  !  but  a  gallant  lad  your  make  should 
find  an  easy  way  out  of  prison.  '  Zounds  !  yes, 
comrade,  I'll  go  to  the  Governor." 

"  Go  to  the  devil,  whose  servant  thou  art," 
cried  Standish  with  a  flare  of  uncontrollable 
anger,  which  reddened  his  white  face  beneath 
tan  and  grime. 

The  man  went  off  swearing  amazedly  be- 
neath his  breath,  and  Standish  dropped  back  on 
the  straw  with  a  sick  heart.  To  be  taken  for 
a  common  informer  and  traitor !  He  might 
have  had  questionings,  searchings  of  the  spirit 
over  the  entire  righteousness  of  their  work ; 
but  to  play  coward  and  turncoat  for  his  mere 
body's  sake.  And  then  suddenly  his  indigna- 
tion sank  in  an  ignominious  sense  of  that 
body's  weariness  and  pain.  He  turned  his 
face  to  the  wall  as  he  lay,  and  shrank  back 

141  ' 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

from  the  slimy  touch  of  the  stones.  There 
were  marks  there  he  had  not  noticed  before : 
names  scarred  on  the  rough  surface  bearing 
witness  that  other  men  had  lived  and  endured 
there,  or  failing  of  endurance  had  died.  One 
name  was  unfinished,  with  a  weak  scratch  in 
place  of  the  missing  letter,  and  the  young  sol- 
dier wondered  idly  over  the  hand  that  had  fal- 
tered in  its  task. 

So  sleep  took  him,  blending  wild  dreams  of 
the  Governor  of  the  Castle  and  Fitzroy  O'Neil, 
and  Standish  only  awoke  as  the  gaoler  clanged 
shut  the  door.  Since  his  incautious  outbreak 
of  anger  the  Captain  had  no  further  speech 
with  his  red-faced  warder,  save  when  now  and 
again  the  man  would  throw  a  rough  jibe 
through  the  half  open  door.  The  other  gaoler 
was  a  down-looking  man  who  seldom  spoke,  but 
set  food  and  water  by  the  threshold  and  went 
on  as  quickly  as  might  be.  After  a  time 
Standish  found  the  fetching  of  that  bread  and 
water  from  door  to  pallet  was  an  arduous  mat- 
ter, and  a  day  came  when  for  long  he  did  not 
fetch  it,  but  lay  watching  the  water  jug  grow 
large  and  small  and  bob  grotesquely  by  the 
threshold,  till  in  the  dead  dark  a  feverish  thirst 
dragged  him  across  to  grope  for  it. 

The  next  day  was  wet,  the  loophole  was 
142 


Watching  the  Loophole 


streaked  with  fine  threads  of  rain,  and  the 
dampness  in  the  air  was  first  grateful  and  then 
struck  chill  as  death.  Standish  lay  wishing 
that  the  gaoler  would  come,  would  give  him  a 
chance  to  rebuff  spoken  temptation.  And 
then  he  became  suddenly  aware  that  there  was 
nothing  in  the  world  for  him  to  hold  to.  Jus- 
tice and  Liberty,  and  all  the  brave  names  for 
which  he  had  fought,  seemed  suddenly  remote. 
In  the  aching  solitude  his  soul  went  out  in  a 
desire  of  something,  near  and  real,  and  he  felt 
how  unpeopled  his  life  had  been,  unable  to 
help  him  with  even  a  memory.  He  flung  his 
left  arm  across  his  face  and  lay  shivering,  try- 
ing to  steel  himself  by  a  vision  of  Eliot  in 
his  prison  cell,  by  a  thought  of  all  the  dark 
foundations  of  Freedom.  But  in  reality  he 
could  only  feel  himself  being  slowly  buried 
alive  in  increasing  gloom  and  squalor,  wholly 
forgotten,  brushed  aside  by  those  out  in  the 
living  sunlight. 

And  while  he  shrank  from  the  menace  of 
the  future  and  scourged  himself  for  the  cow- 
ardice of  that  shrinking,  the  door  grated  open 
on  its  reluctant  hinges.  Standish  composed 
his  face  to  quiet,  and  let  his  arm  sink  with  an 
elaborate  show  of  sleepiness  and  unconcern. 
But  when  he  trusted  himself  to  look  up,  it  was 

143 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

not  the  face  of  the  gaoler  which  met  his  eyes. 
Cornet  Strong  was  bending  over  him,  who  as 
their  eyes  encountered  gave  a  choking  outcry 
which  was  strange  enough  to  hear — 

"  Thank  God  that  I  find  you  thus !  " 

The  words  struck  so  oddly  upon  the  Cap- 
tain's strained  nerves,  that  he  broke  into  a 
strangling  laugh,  which  trailed  off  miserably 
into  a  sob.  All  the  sense  of  loneliness  which 
he  had  fought  back,  minute  by  minute,  and 
hour  by  endless  hour,  rushed  over  him  now 
that  the  loneliness  itself  was  ended.  He 
gripped  Strong's  hand  in  his  own  left  one,  and 
from  that  moment  knew  him  as  part  of  his 
very  life.  Thenceforward  a  strange,  quick 
comradeship  of  the  prison  sprang  up  between 
them,  deepened  on  Strong's  part  by  a  secret 
knowledge,  shaken  by  a  suspicion  not  wholly 
done  away  with. 

"  If  I  could  send  word  to  the  Governor,  or 
reach  Roy  O'Neil,"  Standish  had  muttered,  and 
not  divined  what  answering  doubt  made  his 
companion's  grasp  relax,  and  his  face  grow 
tense. 

But  Standish  in  those  days  was  in  no  case 
to  sound  another's  thoughts.  He  had  fought 
his  own  fight  and  now  lay  spent,  resting  on 
the  alliance  he  had  found.     It  was  not  merely 

144 


Watching  the  Loophole 


that  Strong  brought  bodily  help  by  his  minis- 
trations, though  indeed  they  counted  for  much. 
The  water  was  within  Standish's  reach  now 
when  he  needed  it,  and  his  fellow  prisoner 
silently  stinted  himself  of  his  own  share,  that 
he  might  bathe  and  dress  the  Captain's  arm. 
And  Strong  had  curious  knowledge  of  the  sor- 
did needs  and  shifts  of  a  prison.  He  kept  the 
rats  within  bounds  by  the  simple  device  of 
strewing  crumbs  for  them  at  a  given  hour,  and 
Standish,  who  had  shrunk  with  a  nervous 
horror  from  their  chill  patter,  found  a  dim 
amusement  in  their  stated  coming  and  going. 

"  How  learned  you  such  devices  ?  "  he  asked 
once,  and  Strong  looking  from  him  into  the 
past  answered  slowly : 

"  I  lay  months  once  in  gaol  for  Faith's  sake 
before  I  left  England  and  fared  over  seas." 

"  I  divined  that  you  had  suffered  for  your 
cause,"  said  Standish,  scanning  the  worn  face. 

"  Suffered ! "  Strong  caught  up  the  word 
with  a  note  of  shrillness,  "  Suffered !  I  died. 
Nay,  I  am  not  mad,"  he  answered  the  Cap- 
tain's startled  look,  "  only  when  I  passed  into 
the  prison  I  was  rich  in  all  things  my  heart 
desired,  and  when  I  came  forth,  I  and  that 
other  which  was  with  me,  it  was  to  find  a 
hearth  laid  desolate — for  the  plague  had  swept 
J  145 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

across  our  home  and  the  child — our  child — 
was  gone." 

He  turned  his  face  to  the  loophole  and  was 
silent,  fearing  lest  with  another  word  he 
should  cry  out  with  the  warring  passion  of 
life  renewed.  He  would  not  look  at  the  son 
he  dared  not  claim. 

"  And  so  you  went  from  England  ?  "  asked 
Standish  with  a  gentleness  which  hurt,  so  re- 
mote, so  indifferent  it  sounded  to  the  other's 
mood. 

With  an  effort  Strong  controlled  himself  and 
began  to  speak  brokenly  at  first,  then  more 
fully,  of  the  new  lands  overseas,  of  a  life,  girt 
indeed  with  lurking  perils,  but  free  to  the 
wide  air,  to  the  woods  and  to  God. 

Standish  listened,  half  beguiled  from  the 
sense  of  captivity,  listened  till  he  heard  the 
stealthy  tread  of  moccasined  feet  on  the  muf- 
fling snow,  till  he  saw  the  drift  of  painted 
leaves  through  the  windless  hush  of  unknown 
Autumns. 

"  It  was  well  with  you  there,  assuredly,"  he 
said  wistfully  at  last. 

"  It  was  well  with  us,  yea,"  the  other  an- 
swered. "  Death  was  about  us  and  the  knife  of 
heat  and  cold,  and  there  were  many  graves 

146 


JVatching  the  Loophole 


where  our  corn  rustled.     But  each  man's  soul 
had  space  to  be  itself  and  bow  to  God  alone." 

"  And  you  returned  unto  this,"  cried  Stand- 
ish  with  sudden  passion,  as  he  felt  the  narrow 
walls  close  round  him  again. 

He  raised  himself  on  one  elbow  and  stared 
at  his  companion's  face,  just  seen  in  wan  out- 
line against  the  rugged  stone. 

"Are  you  content  to  be  thus  caged?"  he 
cried  with  youthful  resentment. 

"  I  do  not  know,  it  may  be  that  I  am,"  an- 
swered Strong  wearily.  "  May  He,  the  All- 
seeing,  forgive  my  weakness.  Whilst  that  I 
was  free  I  was  called  to  serve  Him.  The  ways 
have  been  sharp  and  strange,  and  that  whereto 
they  may  lead — but  on  that  I  dare  not  look. 
Here  at  least  I  may  wait  without  sin.  Surely 
I  have  quieted  my  soul  even  as  a  weaned 
child." 

Standish  did  not  answer  and  only  half  un- 
derstood ;  all  his  youth  and  manhood  revolted 
against  that  which  his  companion  seemed  to 
welcome.  He  watched  Strong's  face  in  si- 
lence, reading  for  the  first  time  its  utter  weari- 
ness. "  All  Thy  waves  and  Thy  billows  have 
gone  over  me,"  it  made  mute  confession. 
Stormy  indeed  must  those  waves  have  been  for 
this  to  seem  a  haven. 

147 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

"  But  if  the  call  to  battle  come  ?  "  he  broke 
forth,  and  all  the  soldier  sprang  to  arms  in 
Strong  at  the  word. 

"When  His  trumpet  sounds,  who  shall  with- 
hold us?"  he  cried. 

The  certainty  was  as  far  from  Standish  as  the 
weariness  had  been.  He  could  not  but  be 
aware  of  captivity  and  disablement,  and  his  very 
soul  chafed  at  all  which  held  him  back  from  the 
free  field  and  his  work.  Perhaps  Strong  divined 
as  much,  for  he  came  over  to  kneel  beside  his 
comrade  and  tend  him  with  an  exceeding  gen- 
tleness. 

Standish  dropped  his  left  hand  on  the  other's 
wrist  and  looked  up  at  him  with  a  smile. 

"  You  are  chirurgeon  and  chaplain  in  one," 
he  jested.  "I  shall  commend  you  for  the  post 
if — when  we  win  forth.  And  when  will  that 
be?"  he  added  impatiently.  "How  long  will 
they  hold  us  useless  here  ?  Methinks  I  hear  the 
mustering  and  marching  of  our  Armv,  and  we 
not  there  to  do  our  part."  He  turned  a  feverish 
glance  on  Strong.  u  Last  night  I  heard  shouts 
and  revelry  even  here ;  our  captors  must  have 
been  rejoicing ;  but  sure  they  cannot — cannot 
prevail." 

"  Prevail ! "  Strong  laughed  out  in  his  tri- 
umphant    assurance,     "Prevail!      When    the 

148 


Watching  the  Loophole 


Lord's  arm  is  shortened  that  He  shall  not  smite 
for  His  own.  For  behold  against  their  King 
fenced  about  with  his  Romish  priests  and  god- 
less soldiers  and  a  vain  show  and  pageant  of 
power,  is  set  the  Lord  God  invincible,  girt  about 
with  thunders  and  His  angels  shod  with  fire. 
What  though  we  fail  and  pass — and  yet  verily 
we  shall  not  wholly  fail — God  and  His  will  abide, 
even  from  everlasting  to  everlasting."  And  as 
he  affirmed  it  he  was  looking  through  stone  and 
sky  with  eyes  which  saw. 

The  days  dragged  by  and  the  weeks.  Stand- 
ish  mended  but  slowly,  thanks  to  prison  food 
and  air,  and  though  his  arm  was  knit,  yet  the 
hurt  would  not  heal.  And  then  suddenly 
change  came ;  the  change  so  longed  for,  which 
yet  at  the  moment  was  half  undesired.  Strong 
was  called  away  without  a  word  to  tell  to  what 
he  was  summoned.  Then  after  an  endless  hour 
of  surmise  the  bolts  jarred  again,  the  hinges 
groaned,  and  Standish  found  himself  crossing 
the  threshold  which  so  long  had  seemed  as  a 
barrier  impassable. 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 


xn 

Held  Captive 


STANDISH  followed  dully,  conscious 
only  of  the  relief  of  the  freshening  air 
and  of  the  ominous  resounding  clank  of 
the  guard's  footsteps  in  the  vaulted 
passages.  Donnington  Castle  was  no 
such  strong  keep,  he  reflected,  though  put  in 
martial  array ;  the  more  wonder  that  it  still 
baffled  the  soldiers  of  the  Cause.  And  with 
that  there  reached  him  a  muffled  clamour  of 
voices  and  laughter ;  a  small,  heavy  door  was 
swung  open  and  he  was  met  by  a  rush  of  light 
which  stopped  him  like  an  actual  barrier.  He 
was  standing  looking  into  the  great  hall  where 
at  a  table  bright  with  tapers,  beneath  the 
gusty  flare  of  a  cresset  was  gathered  a  group 
of  Royalists.  Standish  stared  at  them,  with 
eyes  used  to  the  gloom  of  his  cell,  and  would 
have   stumbled  forward   had   not  one  of  his 

150 


Held  Captive 

guards  restrained  him  roughly,  laying  hand  on 
his  wounded  arm  in  a  way  that  made  him 
wince  despite  himself. 

"You  will  abide  the  Governor's  pleasure, 
Sirrah,"  whispered  the  man  and  the  little 
group  remained  half  hidden  in  the  shadow  of 
the  low-browed  doorway. 

The  prisoner  steadied  himself  against  the 
stone  till  his  giddiness  passed  slowly  and  he 
could  make  out  the  scene  before  him.  Rent 
and  stnined  was  the  rich  attire  of  the  gentle- 
men, and  the  gold  and  silver  plate  was  missing 
from  the  table  before  them,  gone  to  the  hun- 
gry mint  at  Oxford  and  the  service  of  the 
King's  needs.  Yet  for  all  that  there  was 
enough  of  brilliance,  of  debonair  grace  and 
gaiety  to  sting  the  young  Puritan  with  a  sense 
of  difference.  Unshorn  and  begrimed  from  his 
prison,  with  his  sword  arm  disabled  and  his 
sword  gone,  Standish  felt  himself  but  a  sorry 
champion  of  his  Cause.  And  how  assured  they 
looked,  these  men  who  had  kept  the  Standard 
flying  in  defiance  of  Manchester  and  Cromwell. 
How  ready  with  jest  and  laugh  and  heart's 
blood  as  the  moment  should  demand.  Watch- 
ing them  angrily,  and  with  naught  to  do  but 
watch,  Standish  saw  himself  resentfully  as  they 
would  see  him.     He  stood  there  rebel  and  out- 

151 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

law,  while  the  Royalists,  wine  cup  or  sword  in 
hand,  sent  echoing  up  to  the  raftered  roof  the 
name,  the  health  of  their  King.  Then  while 
he  leaned  there  cursing  himself  for  his  weak- 
ness, and  his  opponents  for  being  what  they 
were,  Standish  became  aware  of  a  guarded 
figure  slowly  advancing  up  the  hall  from  the 
wide  end  portal.  It  was  Cornet  Strong,  who 
stood  confronting  the  Royalists  with  unflinch- 
ing eyes. 

Very  sombre  and  resistant  he  stood  in  his 
tarnished  soldier  trappings,  setting  against  the 
Cavalier  ease  and  raillery  the  quiet  of  one  sure 
of  an  unassailable  defence  and  alliance.  At 
sight  of  him  Standish  remembered  their  im- 
prisoned hours  together  and  the  fervours  which 
had  flashed  across  them.  He  divined  in  his  fel- 
low prisoner  the  fire  of  a  loyalty  more  profound 
and  passionate  than  the  Cavaliers'  courtly  al- 
legiance to  a  courtiers'  King.  Shame  and  pride 
kindled  in  him  together,  scorching  up  those  dif- 
ferences which  had  abashed  him  a  moment 
since.  He  strained  forward  in  a  quick  desire 
to  range  himself  beside  that  solitary  figure,  to 
enroll  himself  anew  in  that  Army  which  looked 
to  God  alone  as  its  Captain  and  its  King.  The 
grip  of  his  guard  restrained  him,  and  the  next 
moment  one  of  the  group  of  Royalists  had  de- 

152 


Held  Captive 

tached  himself  from  the  rest  and  sauntered  for- 
ward in  a  leisurely  fashion  to  where  the  Cornet 
stood. 

"  So,  ho,  my  Puritan,"  said  Roy  O'Neil  in 
his  silkiest  voice,  "  I  came  hither  looking  for  a 
friend,  and  '  zounds  I  find  more  than  I  looked 
for.  There'll  be  no  talk  of  hanging  to-day,  or 
at  the  least  not  of  hanging  me,  eh,  Cornet  ?  " 

He  swung  a  chair  round  from  the  table  and 
dropped  sidewise  upon  it,  scanning  his  captive 
with  an  odd  narrowing  of  the  eyelids.  Roy 
O'Neil  it  was,  though  his  dark  hair  had  been 
cropped  close  as  any  Roundhead's,  and  though 
the  lines  of  his  laughing  mouth  had  grown  a 
trifle  set. 

"  How  much  is  your  life  worth  ?  "  he  asked 
when  he  had  finished  his  scrutiny. 

"  That  may  be  lost  which  is  worth  more  than 
life,"  answered  Strong  quietly. 

The  simple  words  struck  white  rage  into 
O'Neil's  smiling  face. 

"  Damn  you,"  he  said  fiercely  beneath  his 
breath. 

Sir  John  Boys,  the  Governor,  leaned  forward 
from  his  place  at  the  boardhead. 

"  Who  is  the  fellow,  Master  O'Neil — and 
what  is  this  friendly  talk  of  hanging  ?  " 

He  spoke  courteously,  yet  with  a  faint  note 
153 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

of  formality.     Another  of   the  group  pushed 
the  wine  nearer  to  Roy. 

"  Drink,  man ;  '  slife  your  tale  will  run  the 
more  trippingly  therefor." 

But  O'Neil  shook  his  head.  "  I've  drunk  my 
measure  for  to-night.  You  must  know  I've  re- 
pented me  of  my  evil  ways  ever  since  I  met 
with  this  godly  gentleman  here.  I  don't  drink 
now — not  to  say  drink — and  I  do  but  swear 
when  misled  by  evil  companionship,"  and  he 
glanced  round  the  circle  with  something  sinis- 
ter in  his  mirth.  "The  tale — well,  it's  a  brief 
one  and  had  been  yet  briefer  had  Cornet  Strong 
here  had  his  way.  You  must  know  he  caught 
me  soon  after  our  great  battle  in  the  North.  I 
was  playing  soldier  then  still."  Roy's  tone 
took  an  edge  despite  its  lightness.  "  He  caught 
me  and  finding  that  I  was  one  of  the  ungodly 
Papist  Irish  would  have  hanged  me  to  the 
nearest  tree." 

An  angry  murmur  sounded  among  the  Roy- 
alists. "  Give  him  a  taste  of  his  own  rope," 
counselled  one,  and  two  or  three  voices  shouted 
assent.  Sir  John  sat  hesitant,  staring  before 
him  with  pursed  lips  and  arched  eyebrows. 

"Tush,  gentlemen,"  he  protested,  "hanging 
prisoners  of  war  is  but  butcherly  business. 
What  say  you  thereto,  Master  O'Neil  ?  " 

154 


Held  Captive 

"I,"  drawled  O'Neil,  "I  would  have  no  man 
cut  off  in  his  sins,  but  I'm  thinking  we  might 
try  for  information." 

Strong  understood  the  implied  threat,  for  it 
was  not  unheard  of  on  either  side  that  a  pris- 
oner should  be  forced  to  give  evidence  by  the 
torture  of  the  match.  He  took  one  stride  for- 
ward, his  face  set  rock-like,  and  lifted  his  right 
arm. 

"  The  Lord  can  find  other  hands  to  wield  the 
sword  for  Him,"  he  said. 

" '  Zounds,  O'Neil,  this  passes,"  cried  one  of 
the  Royalists  springing  to  his  feet.  "  Let 
them  hang  the  fellow  if  need  be,  but  torture  is 
a  thing  forbid." 

"  And  why  the  devil,"  another  demanded 
plaintively,  "  should  they  bring  the  matter  up 
before  we've  finished  our  wine  ?" 

O'Neil  sat  reflective,  chin  propped  on  hand. 
The  devilry  of  his  look  was  still  alert,  but  for 
the  moment  it  seemed  well  to  take  the  matter 
lightly. 

"  Nay,"  he  mocked,  u  I've  no  thought  of 
hurting  him,  for  this  present  at  least.  Faith, 
'  twere  pity  to  spoil  such  an  image  of  the 
whole  army  of  the  Saints." 

His  companions  caught  up  the  laughing 
155 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretorts  Horse 

tone,  not  loth  in  their  easy  mood  to  be  quit  of 
graver  questions. 

"  He  should  cut  his  hair  as  short  as  yours, 
O'Neil,"  jested  one.  And  Sir  John,  eyeing  his 
prisoner  from  beneath  uplifted  brows,  "  Shall  I 
have  him  nearer,  gentlemen,  for  your  scan- 
ning  { 

Strong  stood  moveless  but  the  baiting  drove 
the  blood  into  Standish's  forehead.  With  a 
sudden  wrench  he  shook  off  his  guards  and 
strode  to  his  fellow-soldier's  side. 

"  You  had  us  nearer,"  he  said  sternly,  "  and 
you  did  not  relish  it,  at  Marston  Moor." 

Clear  on  the  menacing  hush  which  followed 
rang  O'Neil's  voice  as  he  started  to  his  feet. 

"  You,  Standish — '  sdeath  !  they  did  not  mis- 
lead me  then  when  I  rode  hither  to  seek  a 
friend." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  Standish's  shoulder  and 
faced  the  company. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said  winningly,  "  will  you 
grant  me  the  custody  of  this  prisoner  ?  There 
are  old  scores  to  settle  between  us  by  which  I 
would  not  he  should  be  the  loser." 

"  Faith,  with  all  my  heart ;  so  you  cheat  us 
not  in  the  matter  of  ransom  or  exchange," 
laughed  Sir  John. 

Standish  had  made  a  step  forward  in  obedi- 
156 


Held  Captive 

ence  to  the  friendly  pressure  of  Roy's  hand, 
but  now  he  met  Strong's  searching  and  ar- 
raigning glance  and  it  was  to  that  he  an- 
swered. 

"I  may  not  give  my  parole,"  he  said 
quickly,  "  and  I  desire  no  other  entreatment 
than  that  which  my  fellow  soldiers  must  en- 
dure." 

Roy  damned  his  obstinacy  with  hearty  good- 
will, but  left  his  side  to  go  and  confer  with  the 
Governor,  and  the  two  Parliamentarians  were 
left  together. 

"For  God  His  love — "  whispered  Cornet 
Strong  but  the  question  strangled  in  his  throat. 
Merely  to  put  it  knelled  dishonour  and  he 
could  not  face  the  answer.  He  subdued  him- 
self to  silence  then,  while  Roy  returned  and 
with  a  masterful  laugh  beckoned  Standish 
away. 

"  You  may  not  give  your  parole,"  said  the 
Cavalier,  "but  you  cannot  choose  your  im- 
prisonment neither,  and  I'll  be  hanged,  which 
doubtless  is  my  ultimate  destiny,  if  I  sully  my 
ruffles  by  visiting  you  in  your  former  abiding- 
place." 

Half  reluctantly  the  Captain  followed,  paus- 
ing as  he  passed  his  fellow  prisoner.     "  I'll  do 

157 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

what  I  may,"  he  whispered.  "  Say  farewell  at 
the  least." 

Strong  did  not  raise  his  eyes  from  the  un- 
even floor  at  which  he  stared. 

"  God  be  with  thee,"  he  answered  in  a 
shaken  voice,  "in  mercy  or  in  justice  as 
seemeth  unto  Him  good." 

"That's  a  pretty  two-edged  blessing," 
laughed  Roy  as  he  drew  Standish  with  him 
from  the  hall.  "  Come,  now,  and  blame  your 
own  folly  if  I  have  to  see  you  safely  locked  in. 
1  Twill  be  at  least  a  less  unsavoury  imprison- 
ment. I'll  go  and  forage  for  some  apparel. 
'Tis  to  be  hoped  that  some  few  of  us  possess 
more  than  the  clothes  we  stand  in,  though, 
faith !  most  of  us  could  write  a  history  of  our 
campaigns  from  considering  the  rents  in  our 
doublets  and  the  breaches  in  our  breeches." 

While  he  talked  Roy  had  been  watching  his 
companion  intently,  and  now  he  suddenly 
slipped  an  arm  about  him.  "Steady,  man," 
he  said  in  a  completely  altered  tone,  "  why, 
how  the  devil  have  they  been  using  thee  ? 
Here,  you  knaves,  help  the  Captain  to  his 
quarters,  and  gently  too,  or  I'll  see  to  it  that  ye 
ride  the  wooden  horse." 

So  by  turns  encouraging  and  swearing  Roy 
got  his  captive  safety  bestowed  in  the  chamber 

158 


Held  Captive 

assigned  to  him.  Once  there  he  proceeded  to 
make  Standish  drink  from  the  well-filled  flask 
which  somewhat  belied  his  own  reformation. 
But  before  he  took  the  needed  draught,  the 
Captain  looked  up  into  the  bright  face  bend- 
ing over  him. 

"  I  knew  it  could  not  be,"  he  said  incoher- 
ently. "  They  said  you  had  broken  parole — that 
it  was  you  I  all  but  rode  down  when  we 
marched  on  Speen." 

The  blue  eyes  above  him  did  not  waver. 

"  Are  you  raving  ?  "  asked  O'Neil.  "  Content 
you,  I  have  never  broken  parole,  and — "  he 
laughed  not  quite  gaily,  "I  pledge  you  my 
faith  I  have  never  harmed  your  Cause." 

Then  dropping  his  own  wine  coloured  mantle 
over  his  companion's  grime  and  tatters,  he  went 
off  whistling  like  a  blackbird  to  see  what  he 
could  do  in  the  way  of  plunder. 

Wearied  out  and  glad  of  the  quiet,  Standish 
sank  into  profound  sleep  and  woke  to  think 
himself  on  Marston  Moor.  As  he  roused  more 
fully,  he  discerned  a  woman  bending  over  him, 
and  knew  that  it  was  the  sight  of  her  face 
which  had  sent  him  back  in  memory  to  the 
half-seen  track  of  the  battle  and  Cromwell's 
subduing  presence. 

"Poor  lad,"  said  Mistress  Langley  at  his 
159 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

side,  "  had  it  been  Roy — lie  still,  Sir — here  are 
only  friends." 

Flushing  quickly,  StandLsh  made  to  draw 
Roy's  cloak  about  him  and  the  movement 
wrung  forth  an  exclamation  of  pain.  With 
that  his  hurt  was  discovered  and  he  found  him- 
self given  over  wholly  into  Mistress  Langley's 
hands.  Far  from  resisting  her  gentle  author- 
ity, he  experienced  in  it  an  undreamed-of 
pleasantness  and  watched  with  a  half-wistful 
wonder  Roy's  jesting  reception  of  his  mother's 
care.  The  young  Puritan,  bred  up  among  stern 
abstractions  and  the  austere  devotion  to  a  cause, 
found  a  home  for  the  first  time  within  his 
prison  walls.  Mistress  Langley  came  and  went 
much  as  she  chose,  for  her  husband  had  been  a 
man  of  note  among  the  Royalists  and  none 
cared  to  cross  her  ministrations.  So  she 
brought  her  potions  and  bandages,  her  confec- 
tions too,  making  Standish  feel  absurdly  like  a 
child  in  confessing  to  a  child's  pleasure  in 
them.  And  she  would  sit  near  him,  stitching 
or  broidering  at  some  useless  bit  of  Cavalier 
bravery,  and  talk  gracious  nothings  as  to  friend 
or  kinsman.  Once  or  twice  she  had  striven  to 
speak  her  thanks  for  the  help  Standish  had 
given  her  on  that  terrible  night  and  for  the 
protection  he  had  extended  to  her  son.     But 

160 


Held  Captive 


her  voice  had  shaken  over  the  words,  so  that 
they  spoke  less  clearly  than  the  glance  she 
gave  him. 

For  a  time  Standish  was  well  content  to  have 
Mistress  Langley  there,  mothering  him  with  a 
sweet  unreason  which  took  no  account  of  all 
the  unbridged  gulf  between  them.  He  asked 
no  questions,  and  if  he  wondered  whether  Mis- 
tress Eileen  might  be  with  her  mother,  he  saw 
fit  to  do  so  in  silence.  Roy  O'Neil  he  learned 
had  been  escorting  Mistress  Langley  from  Ox- 
ford, whither  she  had  journeyed  after  the  North- 
ern defeat  to  the  shelter  of  Basing  House — 
Loyalty  House,  as  the  Cavaliers  loved  to  vaunt 
it.  Learning  in  some  unexplained  fashion  that 
Standish  was  among  the  prisoners  taken  after 
Newbury,  he  had  made  for  Donnington  Castle 
in  the  desire  to  requite  old  kindness.  Of 
Eileen  she  did  not  speak  whether  her  silence 
were  by  chance  or  intent,  and  Standish  was  at 
least  left  free  to  sweeten  his  brew  of  bitter 
herbs  by  memory  of  the  girl's  skill  in  such 
gear.  But  was  she  herself  near  ?  The  unut- 
tered  question  met  with  an  unworded  answer 
when  one  day,  while  Standish  was  testing  his 
renewed  strength  by  pacing  the  chamber,  a 
snatch  of  song  came  floating  in  through  the 
casement.  It  was  too  far  for  him  to  catch  a 
K  161 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

line,  but  he  knew  the  voice  and  the  sweet  un- 
English  cadence,  and  thereafter  spent  much 
time  by  his  window.  He  could  see  but  little 
from  his  point  of  vantage,  for  though  his  cham- 
ber was  in  one  of  the  towers,  its  grated  square 
of  casement  looked  inward  along  the  battle- 
ments, and  he  could  win  no  glimpse  of  hill  and 
river  beyond.  The  bastions  themselves  were 
deeply  ploughed  and  splintered  with  the  hostile 
cannon  shots,  and  Standish  could  just  make  out 
the  iron  round  of  a  great  gun  which  peered  in 
answering  defiance  from  the  wall.  That  was 
all,  except  an  irrelevant  spray  of  ivy  which 
tossed  its  slight,  unharmed  tracery  across  his 
window. 

Standish  had  had  time  to  weary  of  his  out- 
look, and  to  begin  to  wonder  when  the  tides  of 
war  would  sweep  against  Donnington  Castle 
again  and  what  he  should  do  pent  within  it, 
when  a  shadow  fell  across  his  bars.  It  was 
towards  sunset  of  a  day  of  shifting  rain  and 
shine  just  touched  with  the  fugitive  gleam  of  a 
rainbow.  And  after  the  rainbow  came  Eileen 
O'Neil.  She  walked  along  demurely  within 
the  shot-splintered  parapet  and  put  out  a  hand 
for  that  enticing  trail  of  ivy. 

"  Green  is  the  gentle  colour,"  she  said  as 
she  reached  for  it,  and  then  she  paused ;  per- 

162 


Held  Captive 

haps  after  all  it  were  pity  to  pluck  it ;  and 
then  a  pair  of  eager  grey  eyes  met  hers. 

"  You  will  not  go,"  pleaded  Standish  as  she 
faltered  back  a  step,  "  look  you,  I  am  wholly 
at  your  mercy,"  and,  smiling,  he  touched  the 
bars  between  them. 

And  Eileen  did  not  go,  she  remained  leaning 
against  the  deep  embrasure,  the  ivy  spray  just 
brushing  her  cheek,  while  they  spoke  of  all  that 
had  befallen  since  their  parting  in  the  North. 

"  Will  you  not  repeat  your  song  for  me  ?  " 
asked  Standish  abruptly  in  a  pause  of  their 
talk.  "  These  days  it  hath  been  calling  to  me 
from  afar." 

"  It  is  a  song  of  sorrow,"  answered  Eileen, 
and  without  more  demur  she  sang  softly. 

"  Where  the  swordblades  of  the  reeds  and  rushes  shiver, 
The  feet  of  chiefs,  the  steps  of  heroes  tread. 
At  the  fording,  at  the  fording  of  the  River 
They  have  met,  the  living  and  the  dead, 
Where  the  Ford  runs  red. 

Gleam  the  torques  where  clash  the  shield  and  quiver; 

Wave  the  reeds  beneath  the  wind  of  fight. 
At  the  fording,  at  the  fording  of  the  River, 

Friend  to  friend  and  race  for  race  they  smite, 

Where  the  Ford  runs  bright. 

One  will  tread  across  the  reeds  no  more  forever; 

Unafraid  the  herons  drowse  their  fill; 
At  the  fording,  at  the  fording  of  the  River 

Mourns  the  victor  in  the  gloaming  chill, 

Where  the  Ford  runs  still." 

163 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

And  it  was  strange  that  in  the  night  which 
followed,  Standish  could  recall  little  of  their 
actual  converse.  It  slipped  from  him  while 
over  and  over  in  his  memory  echoed  the  words 
of  the  song : 

At  the  fording,  at  the  fording  of  the  River 
They  have  met,  the  living  and  the  dead. 

But  he  did  not  forget  Eileen's  face  against  the 
bars  and  the  sky. 

The  days  which  had  drifted  by  so  easily  for 
Nathan  Standish  had  been  passed  by  his  fellow 
officer  in  a  harsher  captivity.  It  was  true,  as 
Roy  had  many  times  assured  the  Captain,  that 
Strong  was  in  no  danger  of  that  threatened 
hanging,  and  that  he  was  being  treated  with 
no  special  severity.  But  neither  did  O'Neil 
see  need  of  any  special  gentleness.  The  hours 
dragged  by  with  a  grinding  slowness  in  the 
cell  where  the  two  had  been  imprisoned,  but 
which  now  to  the  solitary  captive  seemed 
weighted  with  its  very  vacancy.  Yet  the  Cor- 
net could  better  face  his  lot  than  Standish  had 
done  before  him.  To  him,  musing  in  his  soli- 
tude, the  shadow  and  the  pressure  of  that  lone- 
liness would  seem  as  the  very  shadow  and  pres- 
sure of  the  hand  of  God,  and  he  was  content 
that  no  dearest  human  presence  should  come 
between  him  and  the  emptiness  which  was  so 

164 


Held  Captive 

filled.  Only  at  other  times  he  hungered,  if 
not  for  the  nearness  of  that  son  and  brother 
soldier,  at  least  for  the  certainty  that  he  was 
still  serving  the  Cause.  And  then  a  doubt, 
stilled  but  never  wholly  slain,  would  rise  up 
and  Strong  would  abase  himself  in  spirit  be- 
cause of  the  carnal  affection  which  cried  out 
and  would  not  be  denied.  In  the  stillness  of 
the  night  watches,  when  the  loophole  was  only 
a  blot  of  blackness,  or  when  the  stars  watched 
him  with  tireless  eyes,  the  soldier  oftentimes 
lifted  up  his  voice  out  of  great  anguish  and 
wrestling  of  the  spirit,  offering  his  own  soul 
for  the  soul  of  his  child.  And  then  he  strove 
to  beat  down  his  insurgent  heart  into  quietude, 
bidding  it  be  content  that  the  Lord  God,  the 
Judge  of  all  the  earth,  should  call  that  soul 
which  he  had  elected  to  save  before  the 
foundations  of  the  world  were  laid. 

It  was  after  such  an  hour  of  conflict  that  the 
sullen  twilight  of  a  stormy  day  brought  a  new 
gaoler  to  Strong's  cell.  The  man  entered  hesi- 
tantly and  stood  fumbling  his  keys  and  staring 
down  at  his  prisoner.  Strong  for  his  part  took 
no  heed,  but  remained  sitting  with  bent  head, 
the  iron  of  his  shackled  wrists  pressed  against 
his  burning  forehead.  At  last  the  man  made 
a  clumsy  step  forward  and  Strong,  looking  up, 

165 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

recognized  his  own  former  trooper,  Gideon 
Brown.  After  a  stern  glance  at  him,  he  bade 
the  fellow  begone  for  a  traitor  to  God  and  His 
Cause,  unworthy  even  to  stand  before  the 
humblest  of  his  servants.  But  Gideon  showed 
no  inclination  to  obey. 

"  Look  you  here,  Cornet,"  he  began  with  a 
kind  of  grudging  respect  "  hard  words  will  not 
help  and  they  may  hurt.  See  you,  I  would 
not  have  troubled  you,  though  I  hold  a  good 
post  here,"  he  threw  in  with  importance, 
"  saving  that  I  have  a  weighty  question  to  put 
to  you." 

"  What  was  it  turned  thy  heart  from  right- 
eousness and  thy  hand  from  God's  service  ? " 
demanded  Strong,  harshly. 

Gideon  shifted  uneasily  and  kept  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  sickly  gleam  of  his  own  lanthorn 
as  he  answered : 

"Master  O'Neil  did  promise  great  things, 
though  'a  hath  not  wholly  fulfilled  them  yet, 
and  a  man  grows  weary  of  being  compelled  to 
be  righteous  overmuch." 

"Then  it  was  O'Neil,"  Strong  broke  in, 
"  and  that  perilous  witch  his  sister.  Man,  had 
you  no  fear  for  your  own  portion  of  eternal 
damnation  ?  " 

"No   more    of   that,"    said  Gideon  angrily, 
166 


Held  Captive 

"  nor  had  I  left  you  so  soon  saving  for  you 
yourself  and  your  finding  that  paper." 

Strong  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  quick  in- 
drawn breath. 

"  What  paper  ? "  he  cried,  staring  hungrily 
into  the  man's  half  averted  face. 

"The  pass,"  Gideon  muttered,  "the  pass 
Master  O'Neil  gave  me  when  I  swore  to  serve 
him.  I  hid  it  in  the  Captain's  Bible,  being 
sore  affrighted,  and  I  saw  you  take  it  thence." 
With  the  last  words  he  suddenly  flung  off  his 
respect  for  his  former  officer. 

"  I  must  have  it  back,"  he  cried,  "  I  must,  I 
dare  not  face  his  questions.  I  can  show  you 
indulgence,  unlock  your  fetters  and  bring  you 
food  and  wine,  or  " — his  voice  sank  to  a  savage 
whisper,  "  or  I  can  stint  your  rations  till  you  do 
my  will." 

So  half  whining,  half  threatening  the  turn- 
coat advanced  till  he  stood  close  beside  his 
prisoner  and  stretched  out  a  hand  as  though  to 
wrench  open  his  buff  coat.  But  with  a  cry  of 
terrible  thanksgiving  Strong  lifted  his  shackled 
wrists. 

"  This  be  thy  pass,"  he  cried,  "  and  God  judge 
betwixt  us."  And  he  brought  down  the  iron 
of  his  fetters  full  on  the  renegade's  temple. 

167 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

In  the  dead  of  night  Nathan  Standish  was 
wakened  by  a  whispered  call  and  the  flash  of  a 
lanthorn,  while  a  hand  on  his  lips  silenced  his 
cry  of  surprise.  Rousing  with  a  soldier's  in- 
stant alertness  he  scanned  the  figure  before  him 
and  made  out  at  first  only  a  broad  slouched  hat, 
loose  cloak  and  flowing  hair.  But  the  next 
moment  a  slant  of  light  revealed  Cornet  Strong's 
face. 

"  I  bring  thee  freedom,"  whispered  the  new- 
comer. "Rise  and  follow,  but  be  swift,  for  I 
have  sought  thee  long  and  at  no  small  hazard." 

"But  how  in  God's  name  come  you  thus?" 
demanded  Standish  instinctively  making  him- 
self ready. 

Strong  touched  the  keys  at  his  belt. 

"  I  take  the  gaoler's  place.  He  himself  lies 
dead  in  my  cell." 

"By  your  hand?" 

"  By  my  hand." 

Standish  paused  and  looked  with  a  sense  of 
fear  at  the  dark,  summoning  figure.  Surely  his 
Cause  sent  its  sternest  herald  to  call  him  from 
a  captivity  so  little  stern. 

"  What  if  I  do  not  go? "  The  words  seemed 
to  speak  themselves  aloud  with  no  will  of  his. 

Strong  pointed  from  the  casement. 
168 


Held  Captive 

"  Then  the  morn  brings  my  death,  for  the 
night  wanes  and  I  go  not  forth  alone." 

Standish  caught  the  absolute  ring  of  his  voice 
and  knew  that  he  spoke  truth. 

"  But  the  gates  ?  "  he  objected. 

"  Here  is  that  which  shall  open  them." 

Standish  looked  down  at  the  paper  put  in  his 
hand  and  the  signature  flashed  out  upon  him — 
a  name  wherewith  to  break  barriers. 

He  returned  it  without  a  word  and  Strong's 
hand  closed  on  his  own. 

"  Come  with  me,  my  son,  my  son." 

The  broken  words  were  but  half  heard  and 
dimly  heeded  by  the  young  Captain  in  his 
struggle.  And  yet  what  struggle  need  there 
be  ?  Before  him  lay  hazardous  freedom  indeed, 
yet  freedom,  and  behind  him,  only  a  mocking 
semblance  of  home  fashioned  in  his  prison  by 
his  enemies.  Roy's  frank,  equal  comradeship 
of  youth,  his  mother's  gentle  tendance,  Eileen 
half  seen  beyond  the  severing  bars ;  how  the 
thought  of  them  plucked  him  back.  Yet  he 
must  leave  them  and  in  a  fashion,  a  companion- 
ship, to  strike  another  final  gulf  between  them. 
For  an  instant  his  will  poised  between  consent 
and  denial.  Then  he  drew  himself  erect  with 
a  long  breath.  Because  it  was  so  hard,  so  un- 
reasonably, traitorously  hard,  he  must  the  more 

169 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

surely  go.     Because  his  fancies  had  so  veered, 
he  must  be  the  swifter  on  the  straight  path. 

"  Come  then,"  he  said  simply  and  reached 
his  hand  to  Reuben  Strong. 


Prince  Ruperfs  Pass 


xm 

Prince  Ruperfs  Pass 


jA  S  the  two  prisoners  passed  out  together 
/^L       among  the  betraying  echoes  of  the 
/ — %      stone  corridors,  Standish  roused  him- 
-*-      -^-  self  to  consider  the  likelihood  of  their 
situation.     He  had  at  first  obeyed 
Strong's  call  unquestioningly  and  almost  with- 
out understanding. 

"  But,  Strong,"  he  whispered  protestingly 
with  a  detaining  touch  on  the  other's  arm, "  be- 
think you  what  you  would  do.  Will  even  your 
pass  serve  us  at  the  Gates  without  the  word  ? 
Sign  and  countersign  are  needed  ere  one  may 
issue  from  the  King's  castles." 

"  The  King's  heart  is  in  the  hand  of  the 
Lord,"  answered  Cornet  Strong,  "  shall  the 
King's  soldiers  oppose  the  Lord's  will  ?  " 

Standish  acquiesced  mutely,  feeling  not  for 
the    first   time,    how   policy  and  reason  were 

171 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

borne  down  by  this  absolute  faith.  He  made 
no  further  demur  therefore,  and  they  threaded 
the  dark  ways  together,  now  guided  by  the 
lanthorn's  hesitant  glimmer,  now  by  a  flicker 
which  struggled  faintly  through  an  emblazoned 
casement.  They  held  their  course  unchecked 
and  unchallenged,  till  they  reached  the  gate- 
house and  the  forty  feet  of  stone  passage  which 
must  be  traversed  before  coming  to  freedom 
and  the  outer  world.  There  the  portcullis 
struck  its  fangs  across  their  path  and  two  fal- 
conets commanded  the  passageway  with  their 
grim  muzzles.  It  was  a  very  death  trap,  and 
Standish  felt  a  presaging  chill  along  his  veins. 
But  Strong  moved  straight  forward,  confident 
as  a  sleepwalker. 

Once  face  to  face  with  the  guard,  howbeit, 
the  young  Captain's  soldiership  sprang  alert. 
Without  awaiting  the  challenge  he  advanced 
upon  the  men,  calling  to  them  peremptorily. 
One  of  the  soldiers,  with  the  weariness  of  dawn 
already  heavy  upon  him,  demanded  the  word 
and  blinked  uncomprehendingly  when  Standish 
held  out  the  Prince's  pass.  For  a  dragging, 
desperate  moment  it  seemed  that  their  weapon 
was  powerless,  and  Standish  was  conscious  of 
an  irrelevant  anger  which  included  his  High- 
ness Prince  Rupert  and  Cornet  Strong. 

172 


Prince  Ruperfs  Pass 


" '  Sdeath,"  he  cried  fiercely  and  with  an  in- 
ward relish  for  the  Cavalier  oath,  "  You  made 
not  such  stand  and  parley  at  Donnington  when 
his  Highness  came  to  your  gates  with  food  and 
men,  and  now  is  Prince  Rupert  grown  so  incon- 
siderable that  you  stand  and  gape  on  his  pass?" 

He  had  raised  his  voice  with  a  convincing 
disregard  of  caution,  and  the  stone  passageway 
volleyed  back  reverberations  of  Rupert's  name. 
The  appeal  was  not  unheard,  for  a  soldier  came 
limping  stiffly  to  the  scene  of  dispute. 

"How  now,  knaves,  what's  to  do?"  he 
growled  as  the  soldiers  saluted  their  Captain 
of  guard.     "  Who  called  on  his  Highness  ?  " 

"That  did  I,"  answered  Standish  with  his 
head  high.  "  I  am  not  wonted  to  have  men 
make  demur  at  service  when  I  carry  a  Prince's 
orders ! " 

At  a  sign  from  him  Strong  swung  his  Ian  thorn 
full  upon  the  paper,  while  the  Royalist  bent  to 
scan  it,  his  bearded  shadow  bobbing  grotesquely 
on  the  wall. 

"  Zum  Teufel"  cried  he  at  last  and  wheeling 
irately  on  his  soldiers.  "  What  insolency  have 
we  here ;  why  did  you  not  make  speed  to  serve 
his  Highness's  messenger?" 

"  The  countersign,"  ventured  one  of  the  men 
surlily. 

173 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

"  Is  not  the  Prince's  pass  sign  and  counter- 
sign enough?"  puffed  the  other  indignantly. 
"  Did  I  not  ride  behind  his  Highness  before  the 
devil's  own  ill  luck  and  a  lame  knee  set  me  here 
to  serve  among  you  English  volunteers  ?  Aye, 
and  did  I  not  fight  for  him  overseas  and  do  I 
not  know  his  German  '  R '  and  '  t ' — counterfeit 
— and  who  should  know  if  not  I  ?  What  is  it 
you  are  pleased  to  command,  Sirs  ?  "  This  with 
a  complete  change  of  tone  to  Standish  and  his 
companion. 

"  Two  horses  and  furnish  us  with  your  best," 
commanded  Standish.  "  Doubt  not  that  your 
good  service  shall  be  remembered." 

Standish  had  time  to  repent  him  of  his  auda- 
cious demand,  as  minute  after  minute  dragged 
by  intolerably  and  it  seemed  at  each  heart  beat, 
that  day  must  break  on  them  blazoning  the 
truth.  The  Parliament  Captain  glanced  at  the 
South  tower  holding  ward  on  his  right  hand,  and 
he  remembered  how  once  already  his  escape  had 
been  almost  consummated,  and  Prince  Rupert 
himself  had  swung  down  that  stairway  to  baffle 
it.  And  now — God,  would  those  horses  never 
come?  Would  not  the  whole  garrison  have 
time  to  wake  and  find  them  there  ? 

And  with  that,  suddenly  as  a  dream  shifts, 
Donnington   walls   were    behind,   not    around 

174 


Prince  Ruperfs  Pass 


them.  They  were  engirded  only  by  the  pen- 
tagonal works,  and  here  and  there  on  that 
fiercely  assailed  and  defended  eminence  lifted 
the  great  unperturbed  trees,  which  men  said 
had  shadowed  Chaucer's  musings.  The  road 
cut  North  and  South  close  in  front  of  the  Castle 
and  once  riding  freely  there,  there  could  be  no 
fear  but  that  their  pass  would  stead  them  with 
any  chance  met  Royalists.  Standish  looked 
back  in  the  dusk  of  dawn  at  the  pointed  case- 
ment which  eyed  them  serenely  from  between 
the  two  towers. 

"Farewell  to  Donnington,"  he  said  with  a 
note  of  regret  oddly  mingled  with  his  triumph. 

They  rode  Northward,  passing  the  well  for 
which  besieged  and  besiegers  had  contended  so 
stubbornly,  and  had  reached  Snelsmore  Com- 
mon and  the  place  where  their  own  Parliament 
batteries  had  stood,  before  they  drew  breath 
and  accounted  themselves  safe  from  pursuit. 

Here  after  a  brief  debate  they  wheeled,  mak- 
ing a  wide  loop  in  their  course  and  heading  for 
Newbury,  where  they  thought  to  learn  some- 
thing of  the  position  of  the  armies,  and  where 
at  the  least  they  would  not  be  easily  tracked. 

Riding  thus  from  the  stronghold  of  their  en- 
emies, Standish  drew  free  breath  with  a  sense 
that  he  had  come  again  into  his  soldier  self. 

175 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

Behind  him,  merged  in  the  gloom  of  those 
frowning  ramparts,  was  that  captive  life,  which 
he  had  been  dismayed  to  find  taking  on  a  re- 
luctant sweetness.  Now  his  work  called  him 
and  all  his  manhood  sprang  erect  at  the  sum- 
mons. He  looked  into  his  companion's  face  ex- 
pecting there  some  response  to  his  own  eager- 
ness and  wondered  to  find  it  sombre,  and  to 
divine  a  shadow  almost  of  terror  across  its  rigid 
resolve. 

"Are  you  not  content,  Strong?"  he  asked 
with  youth's  impatience  of  an  uncomprehended 
mood,  and  Strong  answered  slowly, 

"  I  am  rejoiced,  yea — if  the  Lord  count  me 
worthy  to  strike  once  more  in  His  Cause.  But 
now  make  speed,  for  the  Avenger  of  blood  fol- 
lows hard  upon  us." 

They  mended  their  pace  indeed,  yet  it  was  on 
a  random  course,  for  they  could  not  know  where 
to  look  for  friends  or  to  avoid  enemies.  As 
they  dipped  down  from  the  height  towards  the 
Kennett,  the  new  day  brightened  about  them. 
When  last  they  had  crossed  that  ground  it  had 
been  in  the  mist  of  an  Autumn  twilight  and  the 
sullen  fierceness  of  a  doubtful  battle.  Now  all 
was  wide  peace  around  them  and  the  freshness 
of  the  breathing  world.  Spring  wTas  abroad  by 
heath  and  hedgerow,  Spring  which  had  only 

176 


Prince  Ruperfs  Pass 


peered  furtively  in  at  the  loopholes  of  the  Cas- 
tle. Here,  as  the  light  strengthened,  sparks  of 
early  blossom  flashed  in  the  grass.  The  hedges 
were  a  weaving  of  young,  adventurous  green 
where  even  the  holly  made  its  new  spikes  silken 
to  the  touch. 

Standish  looked  around  with  a  quick  gladness 
as  of  taking  possession,  though  even  so  he  was 
alert  for  any  possible  stir  on  the  winding,  distant 
roads.  The  tense  lines  of  Strong's  face  relaxed 
and  he  forgot  his  texts  of  war  and  judgment. 

"  Thou  settlest  the  furrows  thereof,"  he  mur- 
mured half  aloud,  "Thou  makest  it  soft  with 
showers,  Thou  blessest  the  springing  thereof." 
And  his  memory  turned  to  a  plot  of  "Western 
earth,  barely  snatched  and  hardly  defended  from 
the  wilderness. 

Finding  Newbury  perilously  astir,  they  pushed 
on  for  Wallingford  and  were  still  holding  a  hur- 
ried though  a  doubtful  course,  when  the  swing- 
ing trot  of  mounted  men  sounded  on  the  road 
behind  them. 

Pursuit  or  help  ?     They  could  only  guess. 

"  Dragoons,  not  Horse,"  muttered  Standish  as 
from  a  hastily-sought  ambush  they  scanned  the 
advancing  troop.  "  And  they  are  friends,"  he 
cried  with  a  great  leap  of  the  heart  as  the 
horsemen  drew  nearer.  "  Truly,  I  tell  you 
L  177 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

there  are  no  troops  which  keep  that  order  save 
only  our  own." 

As  he  spoke  and  watched,  the  young  Captain 
was  again  part  of  the  Army  which  had  done 
great  things  for  its  Cause.  But  Strong  spoke 
warningly. 

"  Beware  lest  it  be  said  of  us  as  of  the  un- 
righteous of  old, '  They  are  men  and  not  God 
and  their  horses  flesh  and  not  spirit,'  for  verily 
we  shall  conquer  while  that  the  Lord  is  with 
us,  and  when  He  departs  from  us  we  shall  be — " 
he  halted  for  a  moment,  smiling  strangely,  "  We 
shall  be  no  more  than  I  before  His  call  came." 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  Standish  but  half  heard 
the  remonstrance,  for  as  the  Parliamentarians 
advanced  he  rode  forth  to  encounter  them. 
There  was  a  quick  command,  a  jar  of  halting 
and  then  a  voice  rang  out  sharply, 

"  Seize  the  Malignant." 

Before  Standish  could  find  words  in  his  angry 
amaze,  his  bridle  was  caught  and  he  was  led  for- 
ward facing  the  officer  of  Dragoons,  a  bulky 
stern-visaged  man,  who  was  wholly  unknown 
to  him. 

"Sir,"  exclaimed  Standish,  "what  entreat 
ment  is  this  of  a  fellow  soldier  but  now  escaped 
from  captivity  among  the  Royalists  ?  " 

178 


Prince  Ruperfs  Pass 


His  captor  eyed  him  from  head  to  foot  with 
exasperating  slowness. 

"  You  have  as  little  the  air  of  a  prisoner  as 
of  a  fellow  soldier,"  he  said  at  last  whilst  Stand- 
ish  realized  afresh  how  well  disguised  he  was, 
in  the  suit  brought  together  by  Roy's  "  plunder- 
ing," and  with  his  hair  floating  loose  upon  his 
shoulders.  He  was  silent  for  an  instant  in  sheer 
anger  at  this  unlooked-for  reception,  and  the 
dragoon  proceeded  with  his  drawling  commen- 
tary, 

"  If  you  be  indeed  of  our  party  it  would  ap- 
pear that  you  must  needs  have  been  doing  ser- 
vice as  a  spy.  Now,  though  it  be  doubtless 
lawful,  being  that  Moses  by  God's  own  appoint- 
ment sent  out  twelve,  whereof  one  was  Caleb 
and  another  Joshua,  to  spy  out  the  land  of 
Canaan,  and  spies  were  likewise  sent  into  Jeri- 
cho which  same  were  saved  by  Rahab." 

"  Sir,"  cried  Standish  hotly,  "  I  am  no  spy, 
wherefore  you  may  spare  these  godly  ensamples. 
I  am  Captain  Nathan  Standish  of  Whalley's 
regiment,  in  the  Army  commanded  by  the  Earl 
of  Manchester." 

"  There  is  no  such  Army,"  returned  the 
dragoon  composedly. 

Standish' s  heart  leaped  to  his  throat. 

"  No  such  Army,"  he  gasped.  a  In  God's 
179 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

name — "  he  choked,  trying  to  find  the  most 
urgent  in  a  huddle  of  questions.  Then,  reason 
awaking,  he  asked  more  soberly, 

"  Who  then  commands  the  Armies  of  the 
Parliament  ?  " 

"  Friend,"  returned  the  dragoon  with  madden- 
ing serenity,  " '  tis  not  for  the  prisoner  to  put 
interrogations ;  moreover  thou  should'st  surely 
know  if  that  thou  art  indeed  a  chosen  vessel 
and  a  sanctified  weapon  of  the  Lord,  how  that 
God  hath  seen  fit  to  appoint  a  leader  for  His 
people,  even  as  Gideon,  that  trumpet  of  the 
Lord,  or  as  Joshua  at  whose  bidding  the  sun 
stood  still  in  the  vale  of  Ajalon !  " 

As  the  dragoon  paused  to  draw  breath  in  his 
exhortation  Cornet  Strong  pushed  his  horse  for- 
ward to  his  Captain's  side. 

"  Look  you  to  it,"  he  said  sternly,  "  that 
while  taking  the  name  of  the  Lord  upon  your 
lips,  you  make  not  a  mock  of  his  servants.  If 
Lord  Manchester  leads  the  armies  no  longer  it 
must  be  that  he  hath  been  weighed  and  found 
wanting.  Who  then  takes  his  place  and  who 
are  you  that  stay  us  ?  " 

"I  am  Major  Okey,  holding  office  in  this 
New  Model  Army,  whereof  the  Lord  General, 
Sir  Thomas  Fairfax,  is  even  now  at  Windsor." 

Okey  answered  with  more  civility,  for  Cornet 
180 


Prince  Ruperfs  Pass 


Strong,  despite  the  long  hair  darkly  framing 
his  countenance,  might  well  pass  for  the  Puritan 
he  claimed  to  be. 

"Fairfax,"  exclaimed  both  the  prisoners, 
each  feeling  perchance  that  another  name 
might  more  fitly  have  been  spoken. 

"  And  what  of  General  Cromwell  ?  "  asked 
Strong. 

"  He  holds  his  post  as  yet,"  answered  the 
Major  curtly,  "  and  I  am  now  bound  to  join  his 
forces." 

"  As  yet,"  the  phrase  had  a  sinister  ring,  but 
Okey  gave  them  scant  time  to  ponder  on  it, 
wheeling  round  on  Standish  whom  he  regarded 
with  continuing  disfavour. 

"  You  must  be  searched,"  announced  the 
dragoon  harshly. 

The  blood  flew  to  Standish's  forehead  and  he 
caught  his  clenched  hand  to  his  breast.  In  an 
instant  he  was  in  the  grip  of  the  soldiers.  And 
their  search  soon  disclosed  the  paper  which  had 
served  as  key  to  Donnington  Castle.  The  Ma- 
jor's face  grew  thunderous  as  he  scanned  it. 

"  Servants  of  God  and  His  Cause,"  he  cried, 
a  and  ye  bear  with  you  the  sign  manuel  of  that 
Prince  of  ungodliness,  that  profane  plunderer 
and  oppressor  of  the  righteous.     What  hinders 

181 


Comet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

that  I  deal  with  you  straightway  as  with  spies 
and  traitors  ?  " 

Standish  and  his  Cornet  gave  differing  reasons 
in  one  breath. 

"Because  you  would  needs  answer  it  to 
Cromwell,"  returned  the  Captain  fiercely. 

"  Because,"  replied  Reuben  Strong,  "  the 
Lord  hath  protected  and  will  protect  us  for  His 
good  purposes." 

Okey  eyed  them  doubtfully  and  as  though 
much  inclined  to  forthwith  carry  out  his  threat. 
In  the  end,  however,  he  commanded  that  they 
should  be  kept  with  the  party,  strongly  guarded. 
And  the  Dragoons  swung  off  at  an  easy  trot. 
To  Standish's  no  small  amaze,  the  troop  pushed 
forward  into  the  Royalist  regions  of  Berkshire. 
They  were  hard  on  Farringdon  before  they  be- 
gan to  come  in  sight  of  outposts  of  their  own 
party,  and  Standish  roused  from  his  sullen  mood 
to  watch  eagerly  for  some  familiar  face.  This 
was  not  the  triumphant  return  he  had  pictured, 
but  at  least  it  was  clearly  desirable  that  Prince 
Rupert's  pass  should  not  end  its  work  by  hang- 
ing its  bearer. 

And  it  chanced  before  long  that  Major  Okey 
fell  in  with  another  officer,  whose  dress  and  de- 
meanour bore  sufficing  witness  to  the  strictness 
of  his  principles.     It  was  in  brief  Lieutenant 

182 


Prince  Ruperfs  Pass 


Flynt,  who,  at  sight  of  his  quondam  fellow  offi- 
cers, raised  surprised  brows  but  made  no  other 
comment. 

"  Truly,  Major  Okey,"  he  observed  with  an 
elaborate  snuffle,  "  there  have  been  great  doings 
in  your  absence,  for  we  have  smitten  the  enemy 
at  Islip,  and  many  have  fallen  and  many  have 
been  whelmed  in  the  river,  even  as  Pharaoh's 
Egyptians  in  the  Red  Sea.  But  I  pray  you 
how  is  this  that  my  good  brothers-in-arms  ride 
with  you  in  the  guise  of  prisoners?" 

The  Major  glanced  at  his  captives  in  some 
discomfiture. 

"  Verily,"  he  answered,  "  they  did  claim  to 
be  of  our  party  yet  had  I  no  assurance  thereof, 
the  more  so  since  one  of  them  beareth  a  pass 
from  Prince  Rupert.  Also  we  have  passed 
divers  of  the  Army  and  to  none  have  they 
appealed  for  witness." 

"  I  appeal  to  Cromwell,"  broke  in  Standish. 

"  You  must  content  you  with  a  lesser  testi- 
mony," smiled  Flynt.  "  Will  you  release  our 
friends  on  my  warranty,  Major?" 

Okey  made  no  demur  and  in  brief  space 
Standish  found  himself  free  though  still  in 
somewhat  stormy  mood. 

"And  now,"  said  Flynt,  cheerfully,  "ride  we 
183 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

on  together  that  I  may  learn  of  your  adven- 
tures whilst  in  the  hands  of  the  Philistines." 

It  fell  to  Standish  to  narrate  the  story  of  their 
imprisonment  and  escape,  which  he  did  with  an 
impatient  brevity,  helped  by  an  occasional  ques- 
tion from  Flynt. 

"  So,"  observed  the  latter,  " '  tis  like  his 
Highness  would  scarce  approve  his  soldier's  zeal; 
they  say  he  can  hold  his  men  strictly  in  hand. 
You  were  indeed  favoured  by  fortune." 

"  Our  passage  was  by  the  hand  of  the  Lord," 
Strong  rebuked  him. 

Flynt  nodded  reflectively,  "And  your  pass 
was  by  the  hand  of  Prince  Rupert,"  he  com- 
mented. "A  noteworthy  conjunction  of  op- 
posing planets,  which  harmless  reflection  I  pray 
you  report  not,"  he  added  in  an  aside  to  Stand- 
ish. "  Our  new  discipline  makes  free  with  a 
red  hot  iron  through  the  tongue." 

"Our  new  discipline,"  cried  Standish,  "what 
dark  speeches  of  change  are  these,  and  will  no 
man  tell  me  of  the  present  ordering  of  our 
Army?" 

"  That  I  will  do  with  all  reasonable  speed," 
returned  Flynt,  settling  himself  more  at  ease  in 
his  saddle.  "  You  are  to  know  that  after  New- 
bury fight  and  its  manifold  mistakings,  our 
Army  went  into  Winter  quarters  whilst  that  our 

184 


Prince  Ruperfs  Pass 


Generals  repaired  to  London,  where  each  made 
it  plain  how  that  the  blame  of  our  short-com- 
ings rested  wholly  on  the  other.  It  was  there 
evidenced  to  all  men  that  a  reformation  was 
needed,  and  a  severing  of  the  chosen  soldiers 
from  the  unprofitable  servants,  even  as  Gideon 
made  division  betwixt  the  men  which  lapped 
water  from  their  hands  and  the  men  which 
drank  from  the  stream  side." 

"  Nay  now,  Lieutenant,"  Standish  protested, 
"  consider,  I  pray  you,  that  I  am  new  come  from 
the  hands  of  the  Malignants  and  scarce  fitted 
for  a  so  scriptural  speech.  Tell  me  what  has 
chanced  in  plain  terms  and  I  will  endure  that 
your  next  quotation  be  from  Sir  Thomas." 

"Truly,"  answered  Flynt,  "I  have  practised 
my  language  with  some  care,  being  that  our 
new  Army  is  possessed  of  a  very  fervent  spirit 
of  godliness.  Indeed  we  have  had  months  of 
most  earnest  enlisting,  drilling  and  ordering, 
until  now  the  Army,  being  modelled  on  that  of 
the  Eastern  Counties  which  did  such  good  ser- 
vice, is  a  strong  weapon  to  our  will.  For,  see 
you,  here  are  no  more  regiments  of  the  North 
and  the  East,  ready  but  to  fight  in  their  own 
neighbourhood,  and  no  more  Generals  which  be 
half  politicians.  The  forces  are  welded  into 
one,  and   these   it  is   purposed   shall  be  well 

185 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

armed  and  well  paid.  And  that  our  leaders 
may  have  no  divided  interests,  a  Self  Denying 
Ordinance  hath  been  passed  in  Parliament 
whereby  'tis  decreed  that  no  member  of  the 
Houses  shall  hold  military  office.  So  are  we 
courteously  rid  of  our  Lord  of  Manchester." 

"  But  Cromwell  is  a  member  of  the  House," 
cried  Cromwell's  soldier  aghast. 

"  Cromwell  is  at  this  present  besieging 
Bletchingdon  House,"  answered  Flynt. 

Standish  bent  his  brows  in  angry  perplexity. 
The  contradiction  clashed  with  his  clear  sense 
of  right,  though  he  could  not  think  of  the 
Ironsides  with  Ironside  himself  away.  Flynt 
observed  his  discomposure  with  relish,  and 
lingered  somewhat  before  beginning  his  ex- 
planation. 

"  The  Lieutenant  General,"  he  proceeded, 
"  was  naturally  desirous  of  leaving  this  grievous 
work  of  bloodshed  and  going  back  to  the  peace 
of  his  flocks.  But  it  becoming  apparent  that 
he  was  still  needed  among  us,  the  Honourable 
Houses,  wholly  without  his  consent  or  under- 
standing, saw  fit  to  extend  his  time  among  us." 

"  For  how  long  ?  "  demanded  Standish. 

"  It  was  to  be  for  some  forty  days,"  replied 
Flynt.  " '  Tis  like  it  will  be — "  his  mocking 
tones  dropped  to  sudden  gravity.     "  Cromwell 

186 


Prince  Rupert's  Pass 


is  a  great  man,"  he  ended.  "  It  will  be  till  the 
term  of  his  greatness  is  reached." 

For  a  little  space  the  three  rode  in  silence, 
and  then  Standish  asked  with  a  touch  of  bitter- 
ness, 

"  And  are  our  places  filled  in  this  Army  ?  " 

"I  think  not  so,"  Flynt  reassured  him,  "but 
of  that  you  will  learn  more  fully  when  that  we 
reach  our  leaders.  Here  you  must  know  we 
have  only  Horse  and  a  handful  of  Dragoons 
wherewith  to  sweep  the  country  bare  about  Ox- 
ford. I  myself  have  of  late  commanded  a  noble 
force  of  draught  horses,  which  cannot  now  be 
used  to  draw  his  Majesty's  guns." 

"  But  how  can  you  besiege  Bletchingdon 
without  Foot  or  Artillery  ?  "  asked  Standish. 

Flynt  glanced  back  towards  Cornet  Strong, 
who  was  riding  sunk  in  a  profound  abstrac- 
tion. 

"  Your  comrade  there,"  smiled  Flynt, "  would 
bid  you  remember  the  fall  of  Jericho.  Now  we 
cannot  beat  down  the  walls  of  Bletchingdon 
with  horsemen's  pistols,  but  the  General  is  even 
now  sounding  the  trumpets  before  them,  which 
is  to  say  he  is  threatening  the  garrison  with 
the  extremities  of  war,  if  it  do  not  presently 
surrender.  The  Children  of  Light  have  no 
such  profane  scruples  of  honour,  such  as  those 

187 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ireton's  Horse 


which  men  say  do  prevent  his  Highness  Prince 
Rupert  from  summoning  a  place,  unless  he  be 
prepared  to  storm  it.  Let  us  on  now  and 
learn  whether  the  walls  of  Jericho  be  fallen." 


A  Warning  to  Ironside 


XIV 

A  Warning  to  Ironside 


CAPTAIN  STANDISH  and  his  Cornet 
returned  from  captivity  as  though 
across  a  gulf  of  years.  All  about 
them  was  changed.  Oneness  had 
entered  into  the  Army.  And  the 
moving  spirit  of  all  the  reform,  the  man  whose 
seal  was  stamped  visibly  on  the  New  Model 
Army,  was  not  the  Lord  General  Fairfax,  that 
gallant  and  chivalrous  gentleman,  but  Oliver 
Cromwell,  who  by  the  very  provisions  of  the 
reform,  was  forbidden  to  hold  a  commission. 
Standish  saw  as  much,  and  smiled  a  trifle  rue- 
fully to  realise  how  the  clear  abstractions  of 
theory  were  ridden  down  by  facts.  Lieutenant 
Flynt  saw  it,  and  lifted  acquiescent  eyebrows. 
And  Cornet  Strong  saw  it,  and  did  not  question 
by  what  means  God  should  make  a  place  for  His 
chosen  leader. 

189 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

As  yet,  however,  the  new  forces  had  met  with 
no  sufficing  test  of  their  efficiency.  Cromwell's 
startling  Cavalry  raid  round  Oxford  had  served 
its  purpose  in  crippling  the  King's  power  to 
move.  There  had  been  manoeuvring,  marching 
and  counter-marching.  Now,  as  Spring  deep- 
ened to  Summer,  Sir  Thomas  Fairfax,  curbing 
his  swift  spirit  by  the  decrees  of  the  Houses, 
set  himself  to  the  siege  of  Oxford.  The  work 
went  slowly,  for  the  Royalists  had  flooded  the 
low-lying  meadows  and  drawn  a  defence  of 
water  round  their  emperilled  walls.  Standish 
was  not  ill  content  to  have  a  little  time  given 
him  before  the  final  test  of  battle,  for  he  found 
it  not  altogether  easy  to  take  up  the  work  as- 
signed to  him.  There  was  no  regiment  nor 
troop  which  had  not  endured  changes  in  the 
new  ordering  of  things,  and  Standish  found 
himself  transferred  to  a  captaincy  in  the  regi- 
ment of  which  Henry  Ireton  was  newly  ap- 
pointed Colonel.  This  meant  less  nearness  to 
Cromwell's  own  person,  for  Ireton  was  much  on 
independent  service.  But  Standish  had  an  ad- 
miring reverence  for  the  Republican  soldier, 
who  had  about  him  all  the  restfulness  of  an  un- 
yielding will.  The  Captain  was  contented, 
moreover,  to  find  that  his  familiar  fellow  offi- 
cers were  to  serve  under  him,  though  most  of 

190 


A  Warning  to  Ironside 


his  men  were  strangers.  These  new  recruits, 
according  to  Flynt's  explanation,  were  many  of 
them  from  the  Fen  Country,  where  Cromwell 
had  been  going  to  and  fro  in  the  earth  press- 
ing men  into  the  Army  to  fight  for  freedom. 

In  those  days,  Standish  had  his  hands  full 
with  drilling  his  troopers  into  fitness  for  the 
great  work  before  them.  Strong  had  with- 
drawn from  his  fellow  soldier,  withdrawn 
strangely,  for  beyond  the  barrier  of  his  reserve 
Standish  was  dimly  aware  of  an  unappeased 
out-reaching.  June  had  dawned,  brimming  the 
meadows  with  wild  flowers  and  kindling  the 
mists  about  the  town  to  a  fugitive  gold.  The 
Oxford  garrison  had  broken  out  in  a  fierce 
sortie,  driving  back  the  besiegers,  but  now  all 
was  quiet  again.  Seen  across  meadows  tremu- 
lous with  streams,  Oxford  lifted  a  dim  tracery 
of  towers,  remote  as  a  dream  of  vanishing 
things.  And  Standish,  watching  it  thus  one 
day,  was  moved  to  a  moment's  regret  at  thought 
of  the  fair  scholars'  city,  with  its  long  quietude 
and  its  brief  Royal  brightness,  now  scarred  into 
the  likeness  of  a  camp  and  fortress.  While  he 
thought  of  it,  his  memory  turning  to  Cambridge, 
he  was  roused  by  a  distant  shout  to  a  sense  of 
commotion  among  the  soldiery.  Within  the 
day,  the  Army  knew  that  Fairfax  had  carried 

191 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

through  his  will  and  that  they  were  to  move 
on  to  face  the  King  in  the  Midlands.  Thence- 
forward all  was  eagerness,  was  movement,  was 
the  great  sense  of  a  final  issue  to  be  met.  And 
Cromwell  was  not  with  them.  From  the  Lord 
General  to  the  humblest  soldier,  that  lack  was 
felt,  and  an  urgent  petition  was  dispatched  to 
Parliament  by  the  officers,  praying  that  the 
Lieutenant  General  might  again  take  up  his 
command.  The  Parliament  yielded  doubtingly, 
and  Cromwell,  now  busied  in  the  Fen  Country, 
was  summoned  to  take  his  part  in  the  great 
contest.  But  no  man  yet  knew  how  soon 
Ironside  and  his  newly  raised  troops  might  ar- 
rive. 

This  was  the  question  astir  in  the  minds  of 
many  as  the  Army  drew  through  the  fertile 
Midlands  towards  Leicester.  This  town  had 
been  but  newly  captured  by  the  King's  forces, 
Montrose  was  doing  great  things  in  the  North, 
and  there  was  stern  need  that  the  New  Model 
Army  should  bear  down  the  scale.  Close  at 
hand  the  two  armies  lay  with  only  a  few  miles 
of  quiet  country,  of  sunlit  air  between.  Fair- 
fax's men  were  concentred  round  Wotton,  the 
King's  near  Daventry.  And  still  Cromwell 
had  not  come. 

192 


A     MOMENT     LATER     HE     WAS     KNEELING     BESIDE     THE 
DYING    ROYALIST." 


A  Warning  to  Ironside 


"  If  God  be  with  us,  who  can  be  against  us  ?  " 
said  Reuben  Strong. 

Standish's  troop  had  been  detailed  for  out- 
post duty,  and  was  but  now  drawing  back  to 
the  main  body.  They  had  fallen  in  with  none 
of  the  enemy,  but  as  they  rode  in  the  quicken- 
ing dawn,  they  passed  a  single  man,  a  Royalist 
it  seemed  by  his  attire,  lying  on  the  grass,  his 
horse  grazing  beside  him.  He  might  have  been 
dead  or  only  sleeping,  but  as  the  sound  of  the 
passing  troop  broke  on  him,  he  half  turned 
with  a  babble  of  incoherent  speech. 

"A  Cavalier  straggler,"  said  Flynt  with  a 
glance  at  the  drawn,  boyish  face.  "  Ride  on,  we 
cannot  take  him  prisoner." 

But  some  one  word  in  the  Royalist's  ravings 
must  have  caught  Cornet  Strong's  ear.  He 
drew  rein  scanning  the  fallen  man  with  an  un- 
willing compassion.  A  moment  later,  leave 
urgently  asked  and  somewhat  doubtfully  given, 
he  was  kneeling  beside  the  dying  Royalist 
while  the  troop  moved  on  in  a  lessening  whirl 
of  dust. 

"  It  may  be  that  I  sin  in  this  carnal  yield- 
ing," said  Reuben  Strong  as  he  loosened  the 
other's  buff  coat  and  raised  his  head  that  he 
might  draw  breath  more  freely  despite  the 
choking  gurgle  of  blood.  The  youth  had  been 
m  193 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

shot  through  the  lungs,  and  was  visibly  gasping 
out  his  life,  muttering  the  while  of  old  hawking 
days,  and  his  mother — his  mother.  The  word 
came  in  pitiful  iteration.  Then  suddenly,  as  he 
stared  up  at  the  face  bent  above  him,  a  change 
struck  across  the  fevered  brain.  The  Royalist 
half  lifted  himself  and  perhaps  the  touch  of 
Strong's  breast-piece  against  which  he  leaned, 
recalled  him  to  his  soldier's  trust. 

"All's  well,"  he  choked.  "They  will  meet 
him  in  force.  He  rides  with  but  few  men — 
where  is  the  map — the  map  ?  " — He  was  tracing 
wavering  lines  in  the  air,  following  his  own 
movement  with  an  intent  gaze.  Strong  bent 
over  him  a  face  grown  rigid. 

"Where  is  the  letter  you  carry?"  he  asked 
in  a  low,  stern  voice. 

Speaking,  he  had  let  the  lad  sink  back  on 
the  grass  whence  he  made  a  strangling  effort 
to  rise.     Strong  laid  a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"Answer  me  first,"  and  then  with  a  look  of 
protesting  passion — "aye,  though  thy  mother 
stood  here  to  plead  with  me." 

The  dying  Royalist  flung  off  the  Puritan's 
grip  in  a  last  flicker  of  strength. 

"  The  message  is  passed  on,"  he  cried  with 
delirious  triumph.  "Ironside  will  not  charge 
with  them." 

194 


A  IVaming  to  Ironside 


He  dropped  back  once  more,  following  with 
failing  hand  and  eye  that  line  of  some  imagined 
journey.  And  therewith  he  passed  out  on 
that  last  journey,  which  for  him  was  not  long. 

Reuben  Strong  gazed  down  for  a  moment 
into  the  dead  face. 

"  God  pardon  me,"  he  said,  and  asked  it  for 
his  relenting  not  his  sternness. 

And  then  the  need  of  his  mission  came  upon 
him.  Those  broken  words — surely  he  had  been 
divinely  chosen  to  hear  them — could  point  only 
to  an  attempt  to  waylay  Cromwell  as  he  rode 
to  take  up  his  post.  Strong  glanced  along  the 
road ;  the  troop  had  vanished  and  in  the  brief 
interval  needed  to  regain  them,  the  attack 
might  be  made — might — but  it  could  not  suc- 
ceed. Here  was  no  question  then.  Alone,  un- 
authorised, he  must  ride  to  reach  Cromwell,  must 
reach  him  ;  warn  him  and  then — Reuben 
Strong's  eyes  lighted  with  the  look  of  one  who 
sees  at  hand  the  goal  he  had  thought  far  off. 

Bending  over  the  dead  Cavalier,  Strong  made 
hurried  search  for  the  papers  that  were  not 
there.  As  he  looked  up  from  the  brief  task  he 
saw  the  Royalist's  horse  which  had  drawn  near 
and  was  now  nuzzling  softly,  like  a  petted  crea- 
ture, against  its  master's  shoulder.  Strong  made 
a  quick  step  forward  and  slipped  an  arm  through 

195 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

the  bridle.  This  fine-limbed  bay  mare  must  be 
swifter  far  than  his  own  heavier  charger,  built 
to  bear  the  weight  of  armour.  And  with  the 
thought  Strong  unbuckled  his  corselet  and 
tossed  his  headpiece  on  the  grass. 

"  The  Lord  is  my  shield  and  my  defence." 
With  that  he  would  have  gone,  but  paused 
for  one  backward  glance  at  the  huddled  figure 
on  the  grass.  A  sudden  quiver  crossed  his  face, 
and  stepping  back  to  the  side  of  the  dead  he 
gently  straightened  the  limbs  and  closed  the 
wide  eyes,  till  the  lad  lay  as  if  in  sleep.  While 
he  still  knelt  busied  about  this  task,  for  which 
he  had  no  warranty  save  very  human  weakness, 
a  sudden  tramp  and  jingle  sounded  close  upon 
him  and  he  looked  up  to  meet  the  eyes  of  a 
soldier  of  Horse.  For  a  heart  beat  he  doubted 
whether  this  man,  whose  dress  and  accoutre- 
ments were  strange  to  him,  were  of  his  side  or 
his  enemy's ;  the  next  he  divined  him  for  Roy- 
alist and  a  great  doubt  and  despair  blazed  up 
within  him.  Was  he  the  very  sport  of  evil 
powers,  that  this  absolute  command  of  God 
should  go  forth  to  him  and  he  be  thwarted  in 
obedience  to  it  ?  Or  had  he  transgressed  past 
mercy  in  that  brief  yielding  to  a  sinful  pity,  to 
the  thought  of  another  youth  who  might  lie 
untended  on  the  next  battlefield  ?      So  for  an 

196 


A  Warning  to  Ironside 


imperceptible,  unending  instant  he  faced  the 
Royalist  with  a  despairing  look  that  was  not 
that  of  fear. 

"How  now?"  cried  the  Cavalier  with  per- 
plexed sharpness.  "  You  are  not  our  messen- 
ger, and  the  lad  whom  you  tend — 'Zounds,  he's 
dead." 

And  still  Strong  did  not  answer.  Had  God 
forsaken  him  that  he  had  thus  fallen  into  the 
pit  digged  by  his  adversaries  ? 

"Is  the  man  mad?"  muttered  the  Royalist 
impatiently.  "  Dismount,  one  of  you  fellows, 
and  make  search  on  the  body.  It  may  be  he 
bears  orders  in  writing." 

With  the  question  and  the  command,  the  clear 
guidance  of  the  Lord  flashed  on  Reuben  Strong. 
He  waved  the  soldiers  back  with  an  imperative 
gesture. 

"  My  son  sleeps,"  he  said  in  a  low,  level 
voice.  "  Get  you  gone  and  rouse  him  not,  for 
he  hath  suffered  grievously." 

The  Cavaliers  glanced  at  one  another  and 
their  leader  spoke  soothingly. 

"  Nay  then  we  will  not  awaken  him.  Did  he 
bear  a  letter  by  chance  ?  " 

Strong  shook  his  head  slowly,  still  staring  out 
in  front  of  him,  while  strange  memories  flickered 
through  him  of  captures  made  by  the  savage 

197 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

Indians,  and  how  one  prisoner  had  played  mad- 
man and  medicine  man  among  them. 

"  My  son  sleeps,"  he  repeated  unchangingly, 
while  the  thought  of  all  that  freighted  these 
dragging  minutes  pressed  him  almost  to  the 
madness  he  feigned.  "It  was  yonder  where 
the  roads  cross — he  would  have  ridden  to  the 
great  Roman  highway,  but  he  is  too  wearied  to 
meet  Cromwell  now." 

"Cromwell!"  The  Royalist  caught  at  the 
name.  "  By  heaven,  he  knows  the  plan  and 
that  must  be  the  rendezvous,  where  the  Bed- 
ford Road  strikes  across  the  Roman  highway 
beyond  Stony  Stratford." 

"'  Tis  out  of  the  line  we  expected,"  suggested 
an  older  officer.  "Shall  we  venture  into  the 
enemy's  country  on  a  madman's  guidance  ?  " 

" '  Tis  a  madman's  scheme,"  answered  the 
other  laughing,  "  to  seek  to  catch  Ironside  off 
his  guard.  Yet  we  are  well  assured  that  he 
comes  with  few  men,  and  when  we  are  met 
with  our  comrades,  well,  the  prize  is  worth  the 
hazard." 

"  Let  us  lead  our  mad  messenger  with  us," 
insisted  the  greyhaired  Royalist,  "  I  do  potently 
mistrust  him." 

The  Captain  bent  down  from  his  saddle  and 
touched  Strong  lightly  on  the  shoulder,  whereat 

198 


A  Warning  to  Ironside 


the  Puritan  shrank,  uttering  a  startled  cry 
which  he  did  not  need  to  feign. 

"  I  cannot  go,"  he  protested  in  a  dazed  fash- 
ion as  the  other  signed  him  to  mount.  "  Look 
you,  I  cannot  go,  he  might  awaken." 

"  You  shall  return  ere  he  awaken,  I  promise 
you,"  answered  the  other  grimly.  "  Come  now, 
to  horse,  and  if  you  seek  to  play  me  false,  your 
brain  is  not  too  crazed  for  a  bullet." 

"  I  am  not  crazed." 

Cornet  Strong  stared  straight  into  his  captor's 
eyes  with  so  wild  a  tension  in  his  own,  that  his 
gaze  might  well  seem  to  belie  his  words. 

"  Faith  no,  you're  not  crazed,"  assented  the 
Cavalier  genially,  "  but  make  speed  now — your 
son's  work  must  be  done." 

Strong  lifted  himself  from  the  body  over 
which  he  had  bent. 

"  The  work  must  be  done,"  he  repeated  with 
a  ring  of  faith  so  absolute  in  his  voice  that  it 
passed  well  enough  for  madness. 

He  mounted  then  with  no  further  protest  and 
rode  forth  among  his  enemies,  with  a  complete 
assurance  that  these  troops  of  the  foemen  were 
set  to  do  the  Lord's  work  in  His  appointed  way. 
All  about  him  were  the  enemy,  the  trampling 
of  their  horses  in  his  ears,  in  his  brain ;  ahead 
of  him,  somewhere  on  the  crossing  roads,  the 

199 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

open  levels,  was  Cromwell,  God's  soldier,  riding 
into  the  net  prepared  for  him.  And  it  was  laid 
on  him,  Reuben  Strong,  to  bring  the  designs  of 
the  adversary  to  naught,  though  he  rode  there 
defenceless,  one  against  twice  a  hundred. 

The  muttered  talk  of  the  Royalist  officers 
reached  him  in  snatches. 

"  I  doubt  we  are  too  far  South  for  our  pur- 
pose." 

u  And  too  near  Newport  Pagnell  for  my  pleas- 
ure." 

The  name  of  the  staunch  Puritan  garrison 
quickened  in  Cornet  Strong  the  passion  for  es- 
cape. There  he  might  win  word  of  Cromwell's 
movements  and  so  bear  on  the  warning  to  him. 
He  drew  sharply  in,  looking  from  side  to  side, 
scanning  the  faces  about  him. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  I  can  go  no  further  alone." 
And  then  as  none  showed  sign  of  yielding  he 
sent  out  a  cry  keen  with  a  veritable  anguish. 
" '  Would  God  that  I  had  died  for  thee,  Absa- 
lom, my  son.'  " 

The  Royalist  Captain  looked  round.  "Si- 
lence the  man,"  he  cried.  "He'll  rouse  the 
country  on  us,  and  they're  not  over  friendly 
here." 

But  Strong  had  already  sunk  into  silence,  and 
200 


A  Warning  to  Ironside 


with  a  rough  threat  or  two,  the  soldiers  left  him 
in  peace. 

And  now  the  cross  roads  were  reached,  and  a 
halt  was  made,  while  the  party  looked  out 
anxiously  for  messengers  or  re-inforcements. 
Strong  with  a  hand  to  his  uncovered  head  flung 
himself  from  his  saddle,  dropping  to  the  ground 
where  he  lay  prone.  His  captors  paid  little 
heed  to  him,  the  officers  being  busied  in  eager 
discussion  as  to  the  work  in  hand,  while  the 
soldiers  passed  with  a  pitying  or  contemptuous 
glance.  Lying  thus,  his  arm  still  slipped 
through  his  bridle  rein,  Strong  raised  his  head 
furtively  and  glanced  about  him.  Southeast- 
ward far  as  the  eye  could  reach  ran  the  mag- 
nificent, unswerving  line  of  Watling  Street, 
while  Northeastward  lay  the  road  for  Newport 
Pagnell.  By  neither  of  these  ways  could  he 
hope  to  go  unmolested.  His  only  chance  lay 
backward.  Then,  hair's  breadth  by  hair's 
breadth,  slowly  and  noiselessly  as  a  shadow,  he 
dragged  himself  through  the  grass  towards  the 
rear  of  the  troop.  His  mare  was  cropping  con- 
tentedly with  little  wayward  movements,  and 
she  obeyed  the  stealthy  tug  of  the  bridle.  The 
dust  was  in  Strong's  throat  and  eyes,  the  grass 
was  hot  beneath  his  hands ;  he  felt  no  soldier 
but  a  crawling  thing.    A  sudden,  sharp  question 

201 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  on  s  Horse 

from  one  of  the  Royalists  made  him  lie  move- 
less, moaning  a  little  and  under  that  pretence 
gathering  breath.  He  glanced  sideways,  to  find 
that  he  was  almost  abreast  of  the  rear  of  the 
troop,  and  with  that  certainty  he  rose  stum- 
blingly  to  his  feet. 

Surely  God's  hand  was  aiding  him.  The  men 
were  not  looking  his  way,  but  forward  at  some 
moving  object  along  the  road.  He  took  a  few 
steps  on,  leading  the  mare,  then  sprang  to  the 
saddle  and  staked  his  soul  on  the  creature's  re- 
sponse to  bridle  and  spur. 

An  instant  shout  rose  behind  him,  but  some 
cried  to  shoot  and  some  to  spare,  and  he  had 
gained  time — some  priceless  half  minute  for  a 
start.  Not  in  vain  had  the  bay  mare  been 
trained,  through  days  of  peaceful  hunting,  of 
martial  foraging,  by  the  master  whose  bridle 
hand  had  no  further  need  of  her.  She  rose  to 
her  work  with  a  long,  light  stride,  and  Strong 
struck  off  between  the  two  roads  as  though 
bent  on  returning  straightway  to  that  spot 
where  the  dead  was  lying. 

Behind  him  he  could  hear  the  quick  hoof 
beats,  muffled  on  the  grassy  margin,  sharp  on 
the  time-worn  road,  and  now  a  shot  came  and 
another,  and  not  one  of  those  chance-aimed 
bullets  but  might  bring  him  down,  useless  for 

202 


A  Warning  to  Ironside 


the  work  of  God.  Strong's  spirit  cringed  within 
him  as  he  rode,  in  a  dread  too  deep  for  any 
mortal  issues.  Surely  by  this  day's  mission  he 
must  be  sealed  as  accepted  or  rejected,  by  the 
God  whose  ministers  were  a  flame  of  fire.  And 
he  spurred  on  beside  the  very  abyss  of  Hell. 

Swinging  about  as  he  rode,  heedless  now 
whether  he  were  discovered  or  no,  he  made  for 
the  Newport  Pagnell  road.  He  lost  ground  by 
the  course  and  looking  round  could  see  his  pur- 
suers plainly.  Three — five — they  had  doubted 
the  madman's  madness  then,  but  it  had  gained 
him  his  chance. 

The  foremost  was  on  a  white  horse,  a  pale 
horse,  menacing  as  more  than  a  mortal  enemy. 
The  others  were  straggling  after  him  and  now 
one  drew  rein  and  dropped  out,  sending  a  harm- 
less bullet  whizzing  over  the  heads  of  his  com- 
panions. Strong  spoke  softly  to  his  horse,  and 
the  petted  thing  whinnied  at  the  voice  and  her 
pace  changed  and  quickened. 

The  road  was  spinning  away  now,  and  the 
grassy  margins  were  only  shifting  blurs  of  green, 
but  back  there  the  pale  horse  was  still  follow- 
ing, gaining  on  them.  Strong  cried  aloud  in  a 
prayer  that  clashed  out  like  a  challenge  and  so 
riding,  praying,  the  last  mile  of  the  road  slipped 
away  beneath  him,  and  the  Puritan  Garrison 

203 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

shot  up  its  walls  in  his  path  like  a  city  of  ref- 
uge, called  forth  by  the  very  word  of  God. 

Safe  beneath  the  shadow  of  its  ramparts 
Strong  drew  rein  and  saw  the  baffled  Royalists 
falter  back  and  give  up  the  chase. 

The  work  was  begun,  but  it  was  no  more 
than  begun,  for  when  Strong  had  sure  word  of 
Cromwell,  it  was  to  learn  that  he  and  his  newly 
raised  men  were  quartered  in  the  country  be- 
tween Hitchen  and  Royston,  more  than  a 
county's  breadth  away.  If  Ironside  rode 
thence,  which  way  might  he  choose,  and  how 
might  he  most  surely  be  met  with  ? 

"  Even  there  shall  Thy  hand  lead  me  and 
Thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me,"  said  Reuben 
Strong. 

He  rode  out  soberly  at  first,  husbanding  his 
horse's  strength,  for  how  could  another  mount 
be  met  with  in  that  region  so  lately  swept  by 
the  Parliament  Army.  Slowly  at  first,  and 
with  less  need  of  watchfulness,  for  he  was  en- 
tering deeper  and  deeper  into  Puritan  country, 
and  country  which  remembered  resentfully  the 
scathing  of  many  a  Cavalier  raid.  Southeast- 
ward still,  past  the  green  serenities  of  Woburn 
Park  where  the  Abbey  lifted  its  mute  witness 
of  an  alien  faith,  assured  as  his. 

The  sun  was  mounting  and  the  need  quicken- 
204 


A  Warning  to  Ironside 


ing,  and  as  the  hills  and  plains  of  Bedfordshire 
rose  and  sunk,  purpose  mounted  and  quickened 
in  the  solitary  rider. 

On  and  still  on.  Strong  was  trained  by 
campaigning  to  note  the  country  through  which 
he  passed,  to  remember  bridge  and  road  and 
ford,  was  trained  too  to  spare  his  steed  on  the 
panting  upward  slope,  to  press  him  on  the 
long  levels.  But  that  day,  if  eye  and  hand 
served  him  well,  he  knew  not  of  their  service, 
and  he  chose  his  way  unseeingly  with  straining 
eyes,  which  saw  in  vision  the  guiding  pillar  of 
smoke.  Hills  fronted  him  and  fell  away,  star- 
tled villages  were  there  and  were  gone.  Some- 
times the  road  rang  sharp  beneath  him  and 
sometimes  grass  muffled  the  hurrying  hoofs. 

Sometimes  a  moment's  fear  struck  chill  to 
him — what  if  his  leader  had  already  left  that 
gathering  place  of  his  men  and  was  spurring 
Westward  to  Fairfax's  Army?  What  if  they 
were  passing,  missing  one  another  in  those  un- 
revealing  spaces  of  fair  country  beneath  that 
unanswering  sky  ?  He  dared  not  pause,  dared 
not  doubt,  for  now  the  sun  was  dipping  and  the 
shadows  were  out-reaching  along  the  way.  He 
could  feel  the  sobbing  heave  of  the  mare  which 
had  answered  so  blithely  to  him  in  the  morn- 

205 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

ing,  could  feel  the  dumb  appeal  he  must  not 
heed. 

They  were  on  the  Icknield  Way,  and  the  road 
lay  straight  ahead  but  slanting  Northward  now. 
How  the  shadows  lengthened  along  it,  and  how 
the  dust-laden  air  was  hard  to  breathe.  And 
what  if  the  end  were  failure?  Doubt  fell  on 
Cornet  Strong  with  a  great  weariness.  God's 
hand  seemed  withdrawn  from  him,  and  he 
pushed  on  a  stumbling  and  misguided  course  in 
a  world  too  indifferent  for  hostility.  He  could 
not  reach  his  leader,  and  if  he  could  what  need 
had  that  iron  soldier,  that  tempered  weapon  of 
the  Cause,  of  any  word  of  his  ? 

Out  of  the  paling  light  along  the  Eastward 
road  came  a  body  of  Horse,  some  five  hundred 
men,  riding  compactly  and  steadily  at  a  quick 
trot.  Strong  strained  toward  them  in  a  des- 
perate gaze.  Were  they  very  truth,  or  steel- 
clad  phantoms  of  his  imagining  ?  And  as  he 
checked  he  felt  the  mare  stagger,  and  the  next 
moment  the  dust  of  the  road  was  about  him. 
When  he  gathered  his  shaken  senses  Crom- 
well's eyes  were  bent  on  him.  They  shot 
strength  into  every  nerve  and  in  quick  yet  or- 
dered words  he  told  of  the  hinted  danger. 

The  General's  brows  drew  together  as  he 
206 


A  IVarning  to  Ironside 


pieced  out  the  story  and  guessed  at  the  ambus- 
cade which  threatened  him. 

"We  must  swerve  from  our  course  then,"  he 
said  composedly,  "  and  ride  the  quicker  that  we 
be  no  laggards  in  the  day  of  battle." 

He  looked  down  at  Strong  with  a  dawn  of  a 
smile,  "  You  came  without  leave  given  of  your 
superiors.  When  you  are  rested,  purvey  you 
a  fresh  horse  and  follow  me.  You  shall  return 
to  bear  your  reprimand  in  my  company."  His 
look  deepened  as  he  met  the  Cornet's  eyes, 
"  May  God  requite  thee  whose  instruments  we 
are." 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  ton's  Horse 


XV 

In  the  Ranks  at  Naseby 


THE  windmill  in  Naseby  village  was 
swinging,  creaking  lazily  in  a  soft 
night  wind,  and  the  straw- thatched 
cottages  were  sunk  for  the  most  part 
in  sleep.  One  of  them  sent  out  a 
wavering  little  circle  of  light  and  laughter,  for 
there  in  the  village  inn  the  Royalist  outposts 
were  revelling — revelling  while  the  New  Model 
Army  advanced  step  by  step  upon  them.  Into 
the  gay  lilt  of  the  song  "  the  King  shall  enjoy 
his  own  again,"  a  song  that  would  not  be  sung 
to  its  end  that  night,  broke  the  unlooked  for 
refrain  of  horses'  hoofs.  Colonel  Ireton,  with 
two  troops  at  his  back,  was  clattering  down  the 
straggling  street. 

Not  even  the  great  blur  of  battle  that  fol- 
lowed could  sweep  from  Standish's  mind  that 
scene  by  the  inn  door.    He  remembered  always, 

208 


In  the  Ranks  at  Naseby 


with  a  disproportionate  keenness,  how  the  Cav- 
aliers dashed  out  in  their  gay  disorder  from  the 
low  portal,  without  time  to  drop  the  oaths  or 
laughter  from  their  lips,  and  were  tossed  back 
or  flung  forward  as  they  met  the  Puritans' 
swords  and  pistols.  The  little  skirmish  was  a 
thing  of  a  moment,  fought  out  half  in  the  clear 
shadows  of  the  June  night  and  half  in  the  glow 
of  homely  light  from  the  inn  door.  And  after 
the  brief  flurry  of  aimless  fighting,  a  few  of  the 
Royalists  were  prisoners  and  more  had  fled  to 
bear  on  news  of  the  attack.  And  yet  a  few  lay 
near  the  threshold,  fallen  lightly  or  struck  rigid 
in  a  last  clutch  on  life,  who  would  hold  careless 
guard  no  more,  nor  stand  in  the  King's  ranks 
on  the  morrow. 

Glancing  round  him  with  a  quick,  stern  ap- 
proval, Ireton  drew  rein  on  the  spot.  His 
heavily  armed  figure  and  dark,  steel-capped 
face  were  struck  out  sharply  by  the  revellers' 
lights,  still  flaring  unheeded  where  the  door  and 
casement  swung  wide.  Stan  dish,  close  at  his 
chiefs  side,  caught  the  exultant  ring  of  his 
voice  as  he  sent  hurrying  messengers  back  to 
the  main  army  at  Guilsburough  and  dispatched 
scouts  to  seek  out  the  King's  forces  ahead. 

"Sir,"  he  ventured  in  the  pregnant  pause 
H  209 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

which  followed,  "do  you  think  these  men  part 
of  the  King's  very  army?" 

"  Of  the  rear  guard,  I  take  it,"  answered 
Ireton  decisively.  "  The  main  body  cannot  be 
far  from  us  now.  It  may  well  be  that  to- 
morrow, no,  to-day,  for  we  are  hard  on  the 
dawning,  shall  see  the  great  struggle." 

Standish  looked  along  the  road  by  which  the 
fugitives  had  disappeared,  with  a  tightening  of 
the  breath,  a  firing  of  the  blood ;  the  grapple 
of  dread  with  desire. 

"  God  with  us,"  he  said,  stilling  that  leap  of 
the  spirit  with  the  Army's  watchword,  the 
Army's  strength. 

"  Aye,  God  with  us."  The  Colonel  caught 
up  the  familiar  battle  cry,  he  at  least  as  undi- 
vided as  his  sword.  "  And  He  will  be  with  us, 
for  we  fight  for  His  laws.  Here  at  length  an 
Army  of  men  doing  the  work  they  are  fitted 
for  and  in  one  purpose,  whilst  the  King  is  hunt- 
ing yonder,  and  Prince  Rupert  marauding,  and 
their  soldiers — "  He  glanced  at  the  scene  of 
their  surprise  and  left  it  to  finish  for  him. 

Standish's  eyes  followed  his  and  fell  on  the 
peaceful  face  of  a  young  Royalist,  who  had 
fallen  hard  by  with  a  broken  mutter  of  prayer. 
And  even  then,  in  the  pulsing  interval  between 
skirmish  and  battle,  he  was  stirred  by  a  great 

210 


In  the  Ranks  at  Naseby 


wonder,  a  wish  to  see  how  this  evil  cause  looked 
to  the  men  who  died  in  it.  And  on  that  fol- 
lowed a  rage  of  longing  to  shatter  his  question- 
ings by  one  final  charge.  He  swung  half  about 
in  the  saddle,  his  eyes  seeking  for  the  flutter  of 
a  flag  and  for  the  figure  which  upheld  it.  Since 
those  imprisoned  days  with  Reuben  Strong,  he 
had  grown  half  consciously  to  turn  to  his  fellow 
soldier  and  find  a  curious  rest  in  his  absolute 
passion. 

"To-morrow  will  bring  the  battle,"  he  said 
as  he  reined  back  beside  the  Cornet. 

"  It  will  bring  victory,"  answered  Strong, 
looking  out  as  towards  the  mountain  and  be- 
holding the  horses  and  chariots  of  fire. 

What  followed  of  that  brief  June  night  and 
the  clear  Spring  dawn  were  filled  with  ordered 
tumult,  as  the  Army  of  the  Parliament  swung 
into  position.  The  mounting  sun  found  it  in 
battle  array  on  Mill  Hill,  a  huge,  blunt  billow  of 
land  swelling  up  from  the  valley,  Broad  Moor, 
which  lay  beneath.  Beyond  that  again  showed 
another  hill,  soon  to  be  steel-crested.  Colonel 
Ireton's  regiment  was  on  the  left  wing  of  the 
Army.  Looking  Eastward  from  his  post,  Stand- 
ish  could  see  a  dazzle  of  strengthening  light 
upon  pikes  and  muskets  and  harness  of  the  Lord 
General's  Foot,  while  beyond  he  divined  what 

211 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

he  could  not  see,  Cromwell  and  the  iron  soldiers 
he  had  forged. 

While  they  waited  thus  Ireton  came  gallop- 
ing along  the  front ;  Ireton,  raised  on  that  in- 
stant eve  of  battle,  by  Cromwell's  petition  and 
Fairfax's  assent,  to  Commissary  General  of  the 
Horse  and  Commander  of  the  left  wing  of  the 
Army.  His  dark  glance  showed  an  anxious 
elation  as  it  ranged  along  his  men,  newly  en- 
listed many  of  them  and  but  just  incorporated 
in  this  New  Model  Army  of  England. 

Captain  Standish,  watching  the  scholar  soldier 
who  should  lead  them,  turned  in  thought  for  a 
moment  to  that  other  leader,  Ironside  himself, 
with  his  face  of  rugged  resolve  and  patient  fire. 
In  his  heart  swelled  an  echo  of  that  great  shout 
with  which,  two  days  agone,  the  Puritans  had 
welcomed  their  Chief  elect  of  God. 

He  could  see  Fairfax,  the  Lord  General,  dash- 
ing from  regiment  to  regiment,  a  gallant,  im- 
perious figure,  "  the  rider  on  the  white  horse." 
And  yet  he  who  had  marched  from  the  Fens 
behind  Cromwell  was  aware  of  that  one  man 
in  all  the  Army  he  had  helped  to  fashion ;  an 
Army  which  must  prove  steel-strong  and  flex- 
ible as  steel,  if  it  was  to  meet  the  last  desperate 
onslaught  of  Royalism.  And  then  Cromwell's 
word  came  for  withdrawal.     The  whole  Army, 

212 


In  the  Ranks  at  Naseby 


pushed  near  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  was  ordered 
back,  that  its  formation  and  strength  might  not 
be  too  clearly  known  to  the  advancing  foe.  In 
the  midst  of  this  manoeuvre  Standish,  glancing 
out  Northward,  saw  a  little  party  of  horsemen 
advancing  at  a  hand  gallop  from  the  direction 
of  the  enemy.  Scouts,  it  might  be,  engaged  on 
a  reconnaissance  and  pushing  it  to  a  perilous 
nearness.  For  the  Puritans  could  plainly  de- 
scry the  foremost,  a  tall  man  wearing  a  scarlet 
cloak,  who  levelled  his  perspective  glass  at  them 
with  deliberateness  before  cantering  away. 
Lieutenant  Flynt,  who  had  been  anxiously  ex- 
horting the  rear  files  to  a  more  complete  order, 
spoke  aloud  with  a  subdued  chuckle. 

"  Now  will  they  deem  us  retreating  even  as 
the  wicked  whom  no  man  pursueth.  Surely 
they  will  come  into  the  snare." 

And  in  truth  in  a  brief  time  which  yet 
throbbed  out  to  a  measureless  length,  the 
Royalist  Army  could  be  plainly  discerned  on 
the  opposing  ridge.  And  though  the  King's 
men  were  outnumbered  by  their  foes,  they  yet 
showed  a  pomp  of  destructive  splendour,  as 
they  swept  out  rank  on  glittering  rank  from 
where  the  King  rode  beneath  his  Standard.  A 
long  heart  beat  of  suspense  there  was,  in  which 
to  scan  that  confronting  line  and  guess  a  name 

213 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

for  those  armoured  glints  which  flashed  before 
it  where  the  leaders  rode.  Then  a  great  cry  of 
"  God  our  Strength  "  as  the  Puritans  sent  forth 
their  defiance  and  affirmation  and  faced  their 
King. 

And  then — then  the  earth  reeled  beneath 
the  shock  and  the  sky  was  dust,  and  the  air 
hammered  with  shouts  and  the  crash  of  en- 
counter. Standish  fought  for  breath,  for  sight, 
tormented  by  one  overwhelming  fear :  that  in 
the  encompassing  bewilderment  he  should  lead 
his  men  amiss,  should  turn  back  unknowing. 
A  moment — a  lifetime  since — his  regiment  had 
stood  a  solid  whole,  supported  there  on  the  left 
by  Vermuyden.  And  now,  heedless  of  odds, 
of  Okey's  galling  cross  fire,  the  Cavaliers  were 
on  them,  striking  them  just  below  the  brow  of 
the  hill,  bearing  them  upward,  backward. 

Standish,  shouting  to  his  men  in  a  voice  he 
could  not  hear,  protested  absurdly  to  himself 
that  men  could  not  ride  up  hill  as  these  Cava- 
liers had  done,  and  while  he  fought  for  foothold 
he  looked  sideways  through  the  blinding  smother 
to  where  Vermuyden' s  regiment  stood,  had 
stood,  for  there  Prince  Rupert  and  the  fiercest 
of  the  Royalist  onset  had  struck.  Followed  an 
eddy  of  resistance,  a  drift  of  panic  and  pursuit. 
Dimly    from    his    own    hard-pressed    struggle 

214 


In  the  Ranks  at  Naseby 


Standish  saw  the  rout  drive  by,  saw  the  rein- 
less rush  of  the  Cavaliers,  and  felt  all  about 
him  the  horrible  suction  of  flight. 

But  the  ranks  immediately  against  them 
checked  for  an  instant,  and  Standish  drew 
breath  and  saw  the  faces  of  the  Cavaliers  dim 
through  the  dust  and  smoke. 

"  That  is  Prince  Maurice,"  cried  a  voice  be- 
hind him  and  gurgled  suddenly  into  silence. 

Standish  saw  his  fellow  soldier,  Captain 
Hoskins,  clutching  with  gauntletted  hand  at 
the  sword  blade  struck  through  his  throat. 
Across  the  bodily  sickness  and  horror  flashed 
Ireton's  set  face,  and  his  voice  bidding  them 
wheel  and  strike  at  the  King's  Foot.  A  final 
confusion,  recoil,  and  the  young  Captain  found 
himself  gathering  up  his  shaken  troop,  while 
beyond  them,  beyond,  on  to  Naseby  village 
raged  the  flight  and  following.  A  spent,  gasp- 
ing silence  had  fallen  on  that  part  of  the  field. 
But  below  them,  on  the  Broad  Moor,  how  did 
the  battle  go? 

Standish  was  straining  tensely  to  pierce  the 
smoke  and  dust,  to  divine  the  meaning,  the 
movements  of  those  pricks  of  light,  those  shift- 
ing points  which  were  men  ;  men  living,  dying ; 
men  drenched  in  sweat  of  blood  and  grimed 
with  powder  and  a-fire  with  their  work ;  men 

215 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

commanding,  charging;  men  trampled  shape- 
less beneath  the  hurrying  hoofs.  The  thing 
was  unreal,  incredible  as  he  stared — but  there 
far  away  to  the  right — 

"  Cromwell,"  cried  Nathan  Standish  exult- 
antly and  the  dispirited  men  about  him  took  up 
the  cry. 

On  the  right  wing  Ironside  had  charged,  had 
triumphed,  had  paused.  Flinging  his  men  on 
their  enemies  with  a  deadly,  deliberate  speed, 
he  had  halted  them  in  the  conquering  moment 
hurling  half  his  victorious  three  thousand  on 
the  King's  infantry. 

There  must  be  the  last  stand,  the  last  sur- 
render. And  while  Standish  gazed  thither,  a 
voice  rang  out  beside  him. 

"  A  sword,"  cried  Reuben  Strong.  "  A  sword 
is  sharpened  and  also  furbished,  this  sword  is 
sharpened  and  it  is  furbished  to  give  it  into  the 
hand  of  the  slayer." 

"Amen,"  muttered  Captain  Standish  and  led 
his  men  down  the  hill! 

Lieutenant  Flynt  drew  up  at  his  Captain's 
side. 

"  We  shall  have  time  for  another  blow,"  he 
observed,  "  ere  ever  His  Highness  wheel  back 
his  men  upon  us.  '  Tis  as  well  we  encountered 
not  Prince  Rupert  but  his  brother,  or  we  had 

216 


In  the  Ranks  at  Naseby 


scarce  been  in  case  for  the  work.  Look,  yon- 
der come  Okey's  Dragoons." 

"  Forward,"  commanded  Standish  curtly  and 
flung  himself  on  the  King's  Musketeers. 

One  officer  of  the  Parliament  was  already 
among  them,  unhorsed,  wounded  and  a  pris- 
oner. Standish  knew  Ireton's  face,  streaming 
though  it  was  with  blood  from  the  halberd 
wound,  and  pushed  forward  desperately  to  his 
side.  He  met  a  quick  glance  of  recognition 
which  stirred  him  like  an  accolade,  and  then 
the  whirlpool  of  battle  drew  him  in,  away  from 
his  rescued  chief.  Thereafter  the  fighting  was 
only  a  dream  of  steel  and  death  and  great  clam- 
our. Sometimes  through  the  sickening  surge  of 
attack  and  recoil,  across  the  slant  of  the  pikes 
or  the  flicker  of  crossing  swords,  he  would  see 
a  face  that  he  knew.  But  for  the  most  part  all 
was  a  blind  and  fierce  medley.  Then,  so  sud- 
denly, resistance  crumbled  and  the  shout  of  con- 
flict was  only  a  cry  of  defeat.  The  King  had 
essayed  and  failed  in  his  last  charge,  turned 
back  by  a  courtier  hand,  and  too  late  by  just 
that  faltering  moment,  Prince  Rupert  swept  his 
men  back  to  the  field.  The  Puritans,  panting 
in  an  unrealised  triumph,  strained  forward  to 
attack  him.  But  Fairfax  held  them  back.  So 
the  Prince  returning  from  victory  rode  unchal- 

217 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

lenged  across  a  defeated  field.  A  strange,  brief 
hesitance  and  the  Royalist  retreat  swept  on, 
maddening  to  a  rout,  and  for  mile  upon  mile 
the  Puritan  troopers  slew  and  spared  not.  The 
sword,  the  sword  was  sharpened  and  it  was 
furbished. 

Drawing  rein  upon  the  Leicester  road,  with  a 
feeling  that  his  very  weapons  were  sick  of 
slaughter,  Nathan  Standish  became  aware  of 
the  companionship  of  an  unrecognised  memory. 
In  the  first  shock  of  the  battle  when  Prince  Ru- 
pert had  struck  his  path  flame-like  through  their 
ranks,  a  figure  that  he  knew  had  flashed  by. 
He  had  seen  it  unseeing,  but  now  he  remem- 
bered. The  swift  rider  was  Roy  O'Neil.  Yes, 
in  spite  of  word  given  and  taken,  Roy  O'Neil  had 
ridden  by  among  the  charging  Cavaliers.  Stan- 
dish  knew  the  lithe  figure  and  the  vivid  face. 
But  he  could  recall  no  gleam  of  a  weapon. 
Was  it  sword  or  pistol  in  Roy's  right  hand  ?  or 
had  he  only  been  waving  on  his  comrades  with 
his  broad,  plumed  hat,  for  he  rode  bare-headed 
and  unarmoured.  It  seemed  to  Standish  that 
he  had  been  aware  of  Roy  through  every  mo- 
ment of  the  fight,  had  seen  that  gallant  figure, 
in  the  rapture  of  a  forbidden  battle,  imprinted 
on  the  mel£e,  the  charge,  the  rout.  He 
looked  about  him  in  the  westering  light,  half 

218 


In  the  Ranks  at  Naseby 


expectant  that  Roy  O'Neil  would  ride  to  meet 
him  along  the  road  where  lay  so  many  of  his 
brothers-in-arms.  And  seeing  only  the  indis- 
tinguishable dead,  he  turned  and  rode  slowly 
back  toward  Naseby  field. 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 


XVI 

The  Meeting  of  Friends 


"And  e'en  with  chains  as  pris'ners,  bind 

Their  Kings  that  them  command  ; 
Tea  and  with  iron  fetters  strong 

The  nobles  of  their  land. 
On  them  the  judgment  to  perform 

Found  written  in  His  Word, 
This  honour  is  to  all  His  Saints, 

O  do  ye  praise  the  Lord." 

THE  rasping  psalm  of  the  soldiers  went 
echoing  along  the  streets  of  Leices- 
ter, as  Captain  Standish  drew  rein 
near  the  General's  headquarters. 
Only  three  days  had  passed  since 
the  great  battle,  and  already  the  town  taken  so 
triumphantly  by  Prince  Rupert  a  fortnight 
since  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Parliamentarians. 
The  King's  captured  Standard  and  his  cabinet 
of  letters  had  been  despatched  to  London,  and 
Puritan  England  was  drawing  breath  in  the 
deep  assurance  of  deliverance.     The  long  op- 

220 


The  Meeting  of  Friends 


pression  was  broken  at  last,  of  that  no  man 
doubted  who  had  stood  on  Naseby  field.  It 
remained  for  the  Saints  and  soldiers  of  the 
Cause  to  build  their  more  perfect  England,  to 
build  the  walls  of  the  New  Jerusalem  with  a 
sword  in  one  hand  and  a  trowel  in  the  other, 
said  Lieutenant  Flynt,  misquoting  Scripture 
with  his  accustomed  fluency. 

And  yet  all  was  not  over  in  the  way  of  fight- 
ing, though  the  King's  army  was  shattered 
past  retrieve.  Even  now  the  Parliament  Gen- 
erals were  deep  in  debate  as  to  whether  they 
should  press  on  into  Wales,  pursuing  the  King 
"  like  a  partridge  among  the  mountains "  or 
turn  to  the  West  for  the  work  of  crushing 
Goring' s  forces.  Standish  glanced  curiously  at 
the  casements  behind  which  the  Council  was 
held  and  wondered  what  decision  was  reached. 
He  had  but  just  ridden  into  Leicester,  for  his 
troop,  together  with  that  of  Captain  Hoskins 
had  been  billeted  some  two  miles  from  the 
town.  Major  Sedesque  was  in  command  there, 
and  Standish  himself  had  had  occasion  to  come 
into  the  town  on  a  matter  concerning  some  of 
the  many  Royalist  prisoners.  Colonel  Ireton, 
whom  he  sought,  was  in  the  surgeon's  hands,  so 
the  young  officer  loitered  along  the  sunny 
street  and  beguiled  the  time  with  watching  the 

221 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

coming  and  going  about  Fairfax's  door.  Among 
the  press  of  soldiers  and  civilians,  his  eye  was 
caught  for  a  moment  by  a  slender  man  in  the 
black  gown  of  a  divine  or  physician,  who  had 
some  ado  in  passing  the  sentries. 

The  incident  slipped  from  his  mind,  when 
after  a  space  of  waiting  he  entered  the  Colonel's 
presence.  He  found  Ireton  erect  and  alert 
despite  his  bandages,  seated  in  a  great  chair  by 
the  table.  Before  him  his  sheathed  sword  lay 
across  a  medley  of  papers.  Something  in  the 
scene  recalled  to  Standish's  memory  the  day 
when  Fitzroy  O'Neil  had  given  his  parole. 
That  thought  was  stirring  in  his  mind  even  as 
he  flushed  at  Ireton's  brief,  strong  words  of 
recognition. 

"  Sir,"  protested  the  Captain,  "  What  I  did 
was  nothing.  Any  one  of  your  men  had  made 
in  to  you  as  readily." 

"  Aye,"  answered  Ireton  curtly,  "  Yet  you 
were  that  one.  It  may  well  be  that  to  you  I 
owe  it  that  I  still  live  to  help  fashion  the  Re- 
public that  shall  be."  For  a  moment  as  he 
spoke  his  keen  eyes  were  visionary.  "  When 
that  you  need  service  at  my  hand,  Captain 
Standish,  I  do  not  bid  you  remind  me,  for  I 
shall  not  forget." 

The  words  were  still  ringing  in  Standish's 
222 


The  Meeting  of  Friends 


mind  when  he  took  leave  of  his  chief  and  passed 
out  into  the  shadeless  street.  Just  before  him 
he  saw  issuing  from  Fairfax's  headquarters 
across  the  way,  a  slight,  stooping  figure  in  a 
black  gown.  Something  in  the  man's  move- 
ments roused  in  Standish  an  odd  sense  of  ac- 
quaintanceship, while  yet  he  could  put  no  name 
to  the  stranger.  Passing  the  sentry  he  checked 
for  an  instant  to  ask :  "  Who  was  that  who 
went  forth  but  now  ?  " 

"  An  apothecary,  assistant  to  Master  Winter," 
replied  the  soldier,  naming  the  Lord  General's 
own  physician. 

Standish  nodded  indifferently  and  turned  back 
to  reclaim  his  horse.  So  doing  he  saw  that  the 
apothecary  had  halted  in  his  stride  as  one  lis- 
tening intently.  Standish  could  clearly  see  the 
updrawn  body  and  clenched  left  hand.  Then 
in  an  instant  he  had  resumed  his  slow  pacing 
and  some  moments  later  had  entered  an  un- 
pretending house,  near  the  door  of  which  stood 
a  load  of  forage.  While  he  was  getting  to 
horse,  Standish  was  detained  by  his  old  ac- 
quaintance, Major  Okey.  So  it  chanced  that 
with  no  purpose  he  kept  that  house  in  sight, 
and  presently  saw  the  wagon  lumber  heavily 
away,  under  the  charge  of  a  countryman,  a 
slouching  fellow  in  a  smock  frock,  who  did  not 

223 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

even  look  up  when  the  Parliament  officer  rode 
past  him.  Ouside  the  gate  on  the  level  Mid- 
land fields  Standish  shook  loose  his  bridle.  The 
southward  reaching  road  had  been  swept  clear 
of  its  encumbering  dead,  and  only  the  trampled 
margins  still  remembered  the  panic  and  pursuit 
which  had  ploughed  along  them.  All  around 
the  country  was  brightening  towards  the  har- 
vest, and  as  peaceful  as  on  that  day  of  riper 
grain  three  years  ago  when  the  King's  Standard 
had  been  set  up  hard  by.  Now  the  end  of 
strife  was  nearing,  and  a  time  of  quiet  reap- 
ing. 

So  Standish  rode  on  till  far  in  the  distance 
he  caught  sight  of  a  loaded  wagon  creeping 
towards  the  town.  The  sight  shot  his  memory 
back  to  a  doorway  in  Leicester  and  a  dark  fig- 
ure passing  by  a  load  of  forage.  Standish 
reined  in  sharply  and  sat  motionless,  a  bodily 
throb  of  premonition  outspeeding  his  thought. 
The  countryman  who  had  walked  beside  the 
wagon  was  the  same  who  had  entered  the 
house  in  a  doctor's  gown.  How  blind  he  had 
been  not  to  see  how  the  swing  dropped  sud- 
denly to  a  slouch.  And  the  feigned  Doctor — 
who  was  it  had  that  so  familiar  trick  of  the 
clenched  left  hand  ?  Stifling  question  and  an- 
swer, Standish  wheeled  about  and  rode  back  for 

224 


The  Meeting  of  Friends 


Leicester  Gate.  But  he  did  not  enter  the 
town,  for  before  he  had  ridden  far  he  came  on 
a  deserted  wagon  in  the  middle  of  the  road, 
dragged  sideways  a  little  by  the  horses  wistful 
for  grass.  Where  was  the  driver  then  ?  Stand- 
ish  looked  about  him  across  the  cruel,  uncon- 
cealing  levels,  and  then  set  spur  to  his  horse, 
beating  down  thought  as  he  rode. 

The  countryman  making  the  best  of  his  way 
across  a  field  looked  up  startled  and  then 
tugged  respectfully  at  his  forelock,  as  the  Par- 
liament officer  drew  rein  beside  him.  Standish 
stared  down  for  a  moment  at  the  smocked  fig- 
ure, at  the  dust-grimed  face  under  the  thatch 
of  touzled  hair,  so  rustic,  so  completely  strange 
to  him.  So  strange,  yet  how  well  known  to 
him  the  intent  blue  of  the  eyes  which  met  his 
own.  They  met  his  look  with  defiance,  with 
quick  appeal,  confiding,  giving  the  lie  to  this 
impossible  meeting.  The  duel  of  glances  and 
of  wills  was  fought  out  in  a  silence  that  ham- 
mered on  the  brain  like  sound.  Then  with  a 
rigid  face  the  Parliament  officer  rode  a  step 
nearer,  dropping  his  hand  to  his  pistol.  But 
Roy  O'Neil  was  quicker.  For  an  instant  his 
eyes  laughed  along  a  level  pistol  barrel,  then 
with  a  quick  turn  of  the  wrist  he  tossed  the 
weapon  from  him. 

o  225 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

"You,  Standish?"  he  cried  with  a  candour 
of  sudden  recognition,  "  Why,  man,  I  all  but 
shot  you.  '  Sdeath,  it's  well  I  meet  with  you 
and  no  stranger  who  might  misread  my  little 
frolic." 

"  I  do  not  misread  it,"  answered  Standish 
dully. 

"What  do  you  take  me  for?"  cried  Roy 
O'Neil,  looking  all  Cavalier  in  his  smock. 

Standish  answered  him  slowly  as  one  piecing 
out  a  puzzle. 

"  I  saw  you  in  the  battle." 

Roy  flung  back  his  head. 

"  You  did  not  see  me  use  sword  or  pistol.  I 
was  caught  up  in  the  charge.  God !  what  a 
charge  it  was  ! " 

The  Puritan  brushed  the  words  aside  and 
spoke  with  the  same  difficult  intentness. 

"  You  entered  Fairfax's  quarters  in  disguise, 
and  came  forth  of  the  town  in  yet  another." 

Breaking  off  sharp  he  sprang  to  the  ground, 
setting  foot  on  Roy's  pistol  as  he  did  so. 

"I  arrest  you,"  he  said  steadily  and  flinched 
under  the  words. 

For  a  moment  the  devil  looked  out  of  Roy 
O'Neil's  blue  eyes.  Then  he  spoke  with  a  sud- 
den hurry  of  tone. 

"Sure,  man,  you've  pushed  the  jest  far 
226 


The  Meeting  of  Friends 


enough.  Why,  what  harm,  in  the  name  of  the 
Saints,  if  I  chose  to  see  somewhat  of  the  men 
I  may  not  fight?  I  have  never  broken  pa- 
role. But,  faith,  the  camp  drew  me — would 
you  have  me  bide  housed  with  my  mother  and 
Eileen?" 

He  watched  narrowly  as  he  spoke  the  last 
words  and  smiled  oddly  at  what  he  saw. 

"My  God!  why  did  you  not  shoot?"  cried 
Nathan  Standish. 

He  stooped  and  lifted  Roy's  weapon  from 
the  ground,  looked  at  it,  then  back  at  his  cap- 
tive. 

"  So  that  was  why,"  he  said  heavily  and  flung 
the  empty  pistol  from  him. 

The  pleading  dropped  from  Roy's  face.  He 
lifted  his  head  and  laughed. 

"  So  the  game  is  up,"  he  said. 

For  a  few  paces  the  two  walked  on  in  com- 
plete silence,  Standish  leading  his  horse  by  the 
bridle.  At  a  little  brook  which  crossed  their 
path,  Roy  halted  suddenly. 

"  You  will  permit  me  ?  "  he  said  lightly. 

Doffing  his  smock  he  laid  it  carefully  on  the 
grassy  edge  and  bent  down  to  bathe  his  face 
and  shake  the  sprinkled  dust  from  his  hair. 
When  he  stood  up  again  all  trace  of  his  disguise 

227 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

had  vanished,  save  for  the  heavy  shoes  at  which 
he  glanced  distastefully. 

"You  must  help  me  equip  myself,"  he  ob- 
served to  his  companion,  "  for  though  a  ruffled 
shirt  is  good  enough  apparel  for  a  duel,  it  will 
not  serve  for  a  hall  of  judgment.  Whither  do 
we  go  ? "  he  added  sharply. 

"  To  my  quarters  first,"  replied  Standish. 

"And  then?" 

"Then  to  Colonel  Ireton." 


The  Parting  of  Friends 


XVII 

The  Parting  of  Friends 


SAFE  in  his  quarters  Captain  Standish 
barred  the  door  before  he  saw  to  his 
prisoner's  needs.  Then  he  set  food 
and  wine  before  him,  serving  him  with 
a  ceremonial  gravity  which  stamped 
the  familiar  action  with  finality.  For  a  little 
space  Roy  endured  the  silence  and  its  signifi- 
cance ;  then  he  pushed  his  wine  cup  across  to 
his  captor. 

"  Pledge  me,  friend,"  and  as  Standish  set  his 
lips  to  the  rim,  "  drink  to — my  health." 

The  Captain  winced  and  set  down  the  cup. 
Roy  was  watching  him  with  a  lurking  intent- 
ness  which  belied  the  random  seeming  words. 

"You  are  but  a  churlish  comrade  to-day, 
Standish ;  we  fared  more  merrily  at  Donning- 
ton.  What,  not  a  word  ?  That's  but  ill  man- 
ners in  a  host." 

229 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

"  Oh,  content  you,"  cried  Standish  fiercely, 
"think  you  this  day's  work  cost  me  nothing, 
then?" 

"Why,  how  should  I  know?"  drawled  Roy 
O'Neil.  "  There's  a  brave  old  Irish  tale  of  a 
friend  slain  by  his  nearest  friend,  all  for  honour 
— but  that  was  in  fair  fight,"  he  added  mus- 
ingly. 

"  You  know  that  I  cannot  let  you  go,"  said 
Standish,  answering  in  set  words  to  the  un- 
spoken plea. 

"No  ?  Well,  I've  ever  heard  great  things  of 
your  Puritan  discipline.  Now  I  should  have 
been  fool  enough — but  what  matter?" 

Standish  clenched  his  teeth  over  a  hard- 
drawn  breath. 

"  You  were  spying  in  our  camp,"  he  said  dog- 
gedly, and  broke  suddenly  into  a  miserable  ap- 
peal. "  My  God !  why  deny  it?  I  trusted  you 
to  know  that  I  must  do  my  work." 

"You  trust  me  far,"  said  Roy  O'Neil  som- 
brely. When  next  he  spoke  his  look  had 
changed. 

"I  was  spying,"  he  confessed.  "You  had 
left  me  nothing  else  to  do.  Damnation !  Is  not 
the  rope  an  Irishman's  fate  however  he  fashion 
it  ?  We  are  wild  beasts  to  be  hunted  down  by 
you  without  even  the  rights  of  the  chase.    And 

230 


The  Parting  of  Friends 


the  King — God  preserve  him  ! — we're  his 
pawns  to  be  lost  as  best  steads  him." 

"  Yet  you  serve  the  King  ?  " 

"  I  serve  my  own  vengeance,  I  serve  my  own 
whim,  I  serve  the  devil,"  blazed  Roy  O'Neil. 
"  Yes,  I  played  spy.  If  I  could  have  warned 
Prince  Maurice  at  Speen,  if  I  could  have  reached 
the  King's  men  at  Naseby  to  bid  them  know  that 
you  were  not  in  retreat,  you  would  have  had 
to  reckon  with  me.  But  I  was  too  late ;  and 
you  could  not  spare  me  a  bullet  in  the  battle 
to  let  me  die  as  a  gentleman,  riding  behind  my 
leader.     I've  played  the  game  and  lost." 

He  flung  out  his  open  hand  on  the  table  and 
Standish  caught  his  wrist. 

"  And  this  last  time,  what  did  you  learn  ? " 
he  asked  hoarsely,  peering  at  him. 

Roy  fixed  him  with  clear,  impenetrable  eyes. 

"  I  learned  nothing,"  he  declared. 

As  Standish  did  not  speak  the  prisoner  broke 
into  an  unsteady  laugh.  "  So  you  might  play 
the  faithful  friend  and  let  me  go,  swearing  me 
to  quit  this  work  henceforward.  '  Sdeath,  not 
that  I  care,  saving  that  there  are  those  who 
would  trouble  for  me." 

Standish  drew  a  deep,  long  breath  and  walked 
across  the  room — once — twice — three  times,  as 
231 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  ton's  Horse 

a  sentry  paces.  At  last  he  stopped  and  looked 
down  on  Roy  O'Neil. 

"  You  have  lied  to  me,"  he  said  slowly,  "  for 
you  that  are  no  coward  have  played  the  coward 
this  day,  not  even  sparing  their  names  which — " 
he  checked  himself.  "  And  this  you  would  not 
have  done,  saving  that  you  bear  some  secret 
which  you  think  might  yet  undo  us." 

He  spoke  with  a  great  quietness,  an  absolute 
affirmation,  his  face  unmoved  and  the  sweat 
thick  upon  his  forehead. 

Roy  stared  at  him  for  a  moment,  tense,  hes- 
itant ;  then  his  face  relaxed. 

"  And  all  that  is  true,"  he  said  simply. 

Standish,  who  had  stood  ready  to  do  battle 
for  his  certainty,  caught  breath  hopelessly  at 
the  avowal. 

Sinking  down  beside  the  table  he  bent  his 
head  upon  it  with  one  deep  sob.  Coming  up 
beside  him  Roy  sat  down  on  the  board  edge 
and  laid  a  hand  upon  his  captor's  shoulder. 

"  Be  not  such  a  fool,  Standish,"  he  said  lightly. 
"  You're  right,  look  you,  and  I — faith,  I  believe 
that  I'm  half  sick  of  lying." 

Standish  looked  up  at  him. 

"I  can  do  no  other." 

"I  know  it,"  answered  Roy.  "Faith!"  and 
he  smiled  whimsically,  "  you're  a  better  Puritan 

232 


The  Parting  of  Friends 


than  I  divined.  I  thought  to  have  overcome 
you." 

"  But  not  the  Army  in  me,"  answered  Cap- 
tain Standish.  "  For  myself  I  could  die  to  es- 
cape this  day's  work." 

O'Neil  glanced  through  the  low  casement. 

" '  Tis  past  noon  by  the  shadows,"  he  said. 
1  Slife,  a  brave,  sunny  day.  Can  you  spare  me 
a  little  time  ?  There  is  much  I  would  say  and 
no  man  I  may  trust  save  you.  There  are — " 
he  faltered,  "  my  mother  and  Eileen.  Yes,  I 
know  what  you  would  say;  you  cannot  face 
them,  but  there  may  be  need.  Look  you,  Ei- 
leen is  fair  and  I  leave  her  defenceless,  the  sister 
of  a  mere  Irishman  and  a  spy  to  boot.  And 
if  my  Lord  Goring  or  one  of  his  mates  do  her 
the  honour — I  shall  not  be  there  to  kill  him." 

"  And  this  the  court  you  fight  for,"  cried 
Standish. 

Roy  checked  himself  and  then  answered 
loyally, 

"  The  court  is  full  of  gallant  gentlemen,  and 
I  would  trust  my  sister  as  easily  to  George 
Goring  as  to  Philip  Wharton.  '  Tis  the  leaving 
her,  a  woman,  to  such  odds.  Standish,  if  she 
need  help  ?  " 

"  I  will  give  it,"  answered  Standish. 

"  That  is  well,  I  will  not  bid  you  swear  it," 
233 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

answered  Roy.  "  And  my  mother — She  knows 
naught  of  my  work  here  ;  if  it  might  be,  I  would 
not  have  her  know." 

He  flung  back  his  head,  his  face  working. 
"For  myself  I  could  be  content — Oh,  I've 
feigned  and  tricked  and  sought  to  hold  my  hon- 
our in  one  hand  whilst  I  did  my  work  with  the 
other — and  I've  hated  the  men  I  served,  because 
their  looks  branded  me  while  they  took  my 
service.  And  I  had  followed  Prince  Rupert 
and  fought  for  his  Standard.  The  end  comes 
not  amiss — but  to  have  it  thus.  Shot  or  steel 
cures  disgrace." 

Standish  turned  a  wrung  face  to  him. 

"  You  dared  the  same  fate  before." 

"  I  could  dare  it  then ;  I  had  not  earned  it." 

Roy  bent  forward  eyeing  Standish' s  pistol 
hungrily. 

"  If  I  sought  to  escape,  would  it  not  be  your 
bare  duty  to  shoot  me  down?  "  he  pleaded. 

Standish  flinched  back  with  a  look  of  mortal 
terror. 

"  To  ask  that  ?  "  he  stammered. 

O'Neil  straightened  himself. 

"  Forgive  me,"  he  said,  "  I  was  thinking  of 
my  mother.  Nay,  you  shall  not  look  so  tragi- 
cally on  the  matter.  '  Tis  of  no  such  moment. 
To  be  an  O'Neil  is  more  than  to  be  an  emperor 

234 


The  Parting  of  Friends 


in  Ireland,  they  say.  But  here  in  England  '  tis 
but  a  savage  '  scape-the-gallows,  who  for  once 
does  not '  scape." 

The  Parliament  captain  turned  away  from 
the  jests  he  could  not  face.  He  stamped  heav- 
ily on  the  floor  and  drawing  back  the  bolts  met 
his  Corporal  on  the  threshold. 

"  Draw  out  a  file  of  men  with  pistols  charged, 
in  the  meadow  yonder  by  the  three  elms,"  he 
commanded  curtly  and  swung  shut  the  door. 

O'Neil  wheeled  on  him  with  a  flash  of  quick, 
incredulous  hope. 

"You  will  be  in  trouble  with  your  com- 
mander," he  said. 

Standish  met  his  eyes  with  a  straight  glance. 

"I  love  you  as  I  have  loved  none  other,"  he 
said.     "  I  will  give  you  death." 

"  And  I  will  take  it,"  said  O'Neil,  and  coming 
to  the  Puritan's  side  kissed  him  on  the  cheek 
as  a  woman. 

The  two  passed  out  together  across  the 
meadow,  walking  quietly  as  friends  in  peaceful 
converse.  And  midway  in  their  short  course  a 
shadow  fell  across  the  sun-warm  grass  at  their 
feet.  It  was  Cornet  Strong  who  stood  before 
them.  Standish  regarded  him  darkly.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  if  the  Cornet  broke  into  one 
of   his   wonted   denunciations,   he   must   draw 

235 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

sword  on  his  fellow-soldier,  must  madly  turn 
traitor  to  the  Cause.  But  whatever  Strong 
knew  or  divined  his  looks  spoke  only  of  a  deep 
sadness. 

"Will  you  suffer  him  pass  into  God's  pres- 
ence unwarned  and  unredeemed  ?  "  he  asked. 

A  quick  trouble  clouded  Standish's  face.  In 
his  human  agony  he  had  forgotten  the  soul  of 
his  friend.  But  Roy  O'Neil  lifted  his  head  and 
smiled. 

"I  believe  in  the  Holy  Catholic  Church," 
he  said  and  signed  himself  with  the  cross. 

He  glanced  with  aloofness,  with  utter  assur- 
ance on  the  solitary  fanatic  who  dared  with  his 
single  word  to  confront  the  church.  So  he 
passed  on  and  Reuben  Strong  sinned,  failing  to 
bear  witness,  held  silent  by  the  look  on  Stand- 
ish's face. 

There  by  the  great  elm  trees  the  soldiers 
were  drawn  up,  the  sun  glinting  on  their  long 
horseman's  pistols ;  an  unmoved  engine  of  war- 
fare. 

Roy  turned  from  them  to  his  friend. 

"I  shall  cheat  the  New  Model  Army  of  a 
bullet  yet,"  he  laughed  and  gripped  the  Cap- 
tain's hand  in  the  farewell  he  would  not  speak. 

As  he  took  up  his  station  beneath  the  peace- 
fully rustling    elm    leaves,    Standish    recalled 

236 


The  Parting  of  Friends 


how  once  he  had  stood  with  Eileen  at  his  side 
to  hear  Ireton's  judgment.  The  memory  sprang 
clear  as  vision,  till  it  was  as  though  two,  not 
one,  must  face  the  death  shot.  For  a  heartbeat 
he  stood  blinded,  silenced,  till  struck  back  to 
life  by  the  ring  of  a  clear  young  voice. 

"  Fire  !  "  cried  Roy  O'Neil  and  Nathan  Stand- 
ish's  order  echoed  his. 

The  silence,  torn  by  the  volley,  closed  in 
again.  The  vagrant  puffs  of  smoke  drifted  up 
and  were  tangled  with  the  elm  leaves.  And 
Roy  O'Neil  lay  face  downward  on  the  grass, 
his  game  played  and  won. 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 


xvm 

Facing  the  Guns 


STRAIGHT  from  the  quiet  thing  beneath 
the  elm  trees,  which  had  been  Roy 
O'Neil,  Standish  rode  back  to  Leicester 
and  Colonel  Ireton.  He  followed  the 
same  way  by  which  he  had  ridden 
that  morning,  and  saving  that  the  shadows 
were  out-reaching  across  the  grass,  there  was 
no  change  in  all  the  country  round.  For  him- 
self he  did  not  ask  whether  he  were  changed 
or  no.  It  was  not  a  time  when  it  was  well  or 
safe  to  bend  his  thoughts  inward.  He  looked 
instead  on  the  Cause,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that 
until  that  moment  he  had  looked  coldly  on  it. 

When  he  entered  Ireton' s  presence  after  a 
ride  that  would  not  end,  the  Colonel  started 
from  his  place  at  sight  of  him. 
"  HI  news  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 
"  Nay,  Sir,"  Standish  looked  at  him  in  a  dim 
238 


Facing  the  Guns 


surprise,  "  I  come  but  to  report —  "  he  paused 
for  a  moment,  all  the  words  that  he  could  find 
being  so  small  and  far  away  beside  the  truth. 
He  drew  himself  together;  it  was  as  soldier 
not  as  man  he  stood  there.  He  did  not  need 
to  tell  how  he,  Nathan  Standish,  had  shot  down 
the  friend  who  had  been  "  very  pleasant "  to 
him.  He  had  merely  to  report  that  a  spy  had 
been  taken  and,  through  the  remissness  of  his 
captor,  had  escaped  that  spy's  death  by  rope 
which  was  so  clearly  his  due. 

He  tried  to  put  the  story  into  the  curtest 
soldier  phrase,  and  wondered  the  while  why 
Ireton  scanned  him  so  closely  with  those  twice- 
trained  eyes  of  his.  But  the  truth  would  not 
be  made  clear  without  some  confession,  for  was 
it  not  by  his  friendship  that  he  had  recognized 
the  man  he  was  to  bring  to  his  death.  And 
thereto  came  Ireton's  quick,  dividing  questions 
and  at  last  Standish  heard  himself  acknowledg- 
ing dully, 

"  He  was  my  one  friend." 

He  spoke  the  words  quite  without  feeling.  It 
was  his  Colonel's  eyes  which  dropped. 

"Therefore,"  Standish  went  on,  "I  did  not 
deliver  him  over  to  perish  as  a  spy  by  hanging, 
but  gave  him  by  mine  own  authority  a  quick 

239 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

and  honourable  death.    I  am  come  to  bear  what 
penalty  may  be  deemed  fitting." 

Ireton  watched  him  thoughtfully  for  a  mo- 
ment before  he  answered,  "  And  you  did  not 
think  of  coming  to  me  to  intercede  for  your 
friend,  claiming  the  promise  I  had  but  this  day 
given  ?  " 

"  Sir,"  replied  Standish  simply,  "  you  had 
spared  him  once  and — he  had  earned  his 
death." 

Ireton  nodded  like  a  man  content. 

"  True,  no  service  rendered  can  bind  a  man 
to  act  against  the  Commonwealth.  I  had  not 
again  spared  your  friend."  He  was  silent  for 
a  space,  still  watching  the  Captain's  face  with 
those  deep  shadows  on  it  which  had  not  been 
there  that  morning.  "And  your  friend  is 
dead,"  he  said  at  last  deliberately,  "  is  not  the 
reason  of  his  death  grown  hateful  to  you  ? " 

Life  sprang  into  Standish' s  face,  life  and  a 
quick  resentment. 

"  The  reason — that  is  our  Cause,"  he  answered 
almost  fiercely,  "  and  to  die  for  it  were  even 
too  little  now." 

Ireton  leaned  forward  and  took  the  Captain's 
hand  in  a  firm  grip. 

"  It  is  well,"  he  said,  "  that  Cause  and  Army 
are  fashioning  such  men  as  you." 

240 


Facing  the  Guns 


At  that  for  the  first  time  Standish  blenched. 
"  My  God,  Sir,  do  not  praise  me,"  he  cried  in  a 
voice  so  sharp  with  anguish  that  Ireton  glanced 
aside. 

When  the  Captain  had  mastered  himself  he 
spoke  again,  but  haltingly,  his  control  once 
broken. 

"  Sir,  I  would  remember  you  of  that  promise 
which  I  had  not  thought  to  claim.  I  would 
ask  that  whatever  penalty  be  exacted  of  me, 
I  may  have  leave  first  for  two  things." 

"  And  they  are  ?  " 

"That  I  may  return  now  and  bury  my 
friend  and  then  that  I  may  bear  the  word  to 
his  mother." 

"  And  whither  would  you  carry  that  word  ?  " 

"  She  is  at  Donnington  Castle." 

Ireton  bent  a  moment's  intent  scrutiny  on 
one  of  the  plans  before  him. 

"  When  occasion  serves,"  he  answered,  "  you 
shall  ride  thither,  and  our  march  ere  long  may 
bring  us  nearer  Donnington.  For  the  rest — 
the  man  lies  dead  which  endangered  us ;  and 
what  penalty  shall  be  exacted  of  the  friend  who 
hath  slain  his  friend  for  his  work's  sake  ?  Nay, 
fear  not,  Nathan  Standish,  I  do  not  praise  you. 
You  could  do  none  other." 

The  march  pressed  Southward,  a  swift  march, 
p  241 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

exhausting  the  men  who,  for  all  their  great 
victory,  were  ill-clothed  and  shod  and  sometimes 
scantily  fed.  And  Fairfax,  bent  ardently  on 
his  work,  could  not  spare  his  soldiers  more  than 
he  spared  his  own  over-taxed  body.  Captain 
Standish  would  have  welcomed  greater  hardship 
than  any  which  fell  to  his  lot.  His  very  soul 
ached  to  do,  to  endure,  to  suffer,  so  that  he 
might  prove  the  zeal  which  kindled  so  fiercely 
in  him.  He  dared  no  longer  stand  in  spirit 
aloof  and  look  quietly,  justly,  on  the  great 
struggle.  There  was  a  deadly  need  in  him  to 
love  the  Cause  he  served. 

Lieutenant  Flynt  in  those  days  watched  and 
wondered  much,  and  was  even  driven  to  impart- 
ing his  opinions  to  Cornet  Strong. 

"  Somewhat  hath  changed  the  mood  of  our 
most  equal-minded  Captain,"  he  observed,  "  and 
I  am  fain  in  the  interests  of  pure  truth  to  know 
what  the  occurring  may  be.  Well,  a  man  is 
more  after  the  pattern  of  humanity  when  that 
love  or  hate  hath  drawn  blood." 

He  looked  a  suggested  question  at  Cornet 
Strong  who  locked  his  lips  in  a  complete  si- 
lence. 

Flynt  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  sighed 
resignedly. 

The  troop  was  growing  somewhat  depressing 
242 


Facing  the  Guns 


for  a  gentleman  inclined  to  speculative  dis- 
course. He  decided  to  seek  an  hour's  relaxa- 
tion in  talk  with  the  regimental  Chaplain,  who 
believed  that  he  had  found  a  hopeful  penitent 
in  this  much  inquiring  soldier.  But  as  he 
abandoned  Strong,  the  Lieutenant  glanced  from 
him  to  Captain  Standish  and  his  eyebrows  as- 
sumed their  most  interested  angle.  "  There  is," 
he  reflected,  "  a  similitude  between  the  faces 
which  I  had  never  remarked  before.  So  doth 
the  fanatical  spirit  of  our  Army  set  its  mark 
upon  all." 

As  June  drew  towards  its  close  Fairfax  halted 
his  forces  at  Lechlade  on  the  borders  of  Glou- 
cestershire. And  then  Standish  claimed  his 
leave  and  rode  hard  to  Newbury  and  Donning- 
ton.  Assured  Summer  now  lay  across  the  coun- 
try which  he  had  last  seen  in  venturesome,  ad- 
vancing Spring.  And  he  came  from  full  victory 
who  had  then  ridden  from  captivity  towards  a 
doubtful  hazard.  He  should  triumph,  did  tri- 
umph with  an  exultation  that  stung  salt  with 
bitterness. 

At  the  little  village  of  Donnington,  Standish 
drew  rein  and  took  counsel  with  himself.  To 
return  to  the  very  place  of  his  imprisonment 
and  escape  was  but  a  perilous  attempt,  while 
to  enter  the  Castle  might  prove  more  difficult 
243 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

than  to  escape  from  it.  The  garrison  was  en- 
joying a  brief  interlude  of  peace,  and  there 
was  but  little  stir  about  the  town  which  had 
suffered  grievously  beneath  so  many  martial 
inroads.  Standish  alighted  at  the  one  inn  and 
entered  the  guest  room  to  find  it  tenanted  by  a 
single  inmate.  The  two  eyed  each  other  for  a 
moment  with  that  measuring  glance  which  is 
so  quickly  learned  in  war  time.  Standish  saw 
before  him  a  man  some  ten  years  his  elder,  a 
soldier  plainly.  He  bore  himself  well,  with  a 
frank  and  careless  ease,  and  his  face  must  have 
been  a  comely  one  before  the  disfiguring  sword 
cut  which  had  gashed  cheek  and  brow.  The 
stranger  had  been  busied  writing  at  Standish's 
entrance  and  he  lifted  to  him  a  pair  of  brown 
eyes  very  direct  and  clear  despite  the  shade 
of  sadness  in  them.  After  their  mute  greeting 
the  Puritan  Captain  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Sir,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  can  you  give  me 
news  of  the  Castle  ?  I'm  but  newly  come  to 
these  parts." 

"The  question  is  to  the  point,"  returned  the 
other  smiling,  "  but  to  whom  should  I  give  my 
news  ?     In  these  days — " 

Standish  hesitated  a  moment.  He  guessed 
the  speaker  to  be  most  like  a  Royalist.  But 
what  then — someone  he  must  trust.    To  his  own 

244 


Facing  the  Guns 


old  instinct  of  faith  in  a  worthy  foe  was  added 
now  a  touch  of  Strong's  stern  belief  that  he  was 
safe  for  his  destined  work.  He  must  pass 
within  Donnington  walls;  he  did  not  doubt 
that  he  should  come  forth  again  to  take  his 
place.  Yet  he  stood  for  a  little  space  ponder- 
ing, while  the  good  wife  of  the  inn  bustled 
about  the  open  door.  Her  guest  had  forgotten 
to  order  wine  or  ale. 

"I  questioned  you,"  said  Standish  at  last, 
"not  from  any  desire  to  seek  out  the  strength 
of  the  garrison,  but  because  I  would  crave  to 
know  whether  one  Mistress  Langley  and  her 
daughter  yet  dwell  there." 

His  listener's  face  changed  at  the  words. 
Glancing  towards  the  door  the  Royalist  signed 
to  the  woman  there. 

"  The  gentleman  will  take  a  measure  of  your 
best  wine,"  he  said,  "  and  see  that  it  be  your 
best,  good  dame,  that  which  was  safely  buried 
when  Manchester's  troopers  marched  by." 

Having  thus  rid  himself  of  her  presence  he 
turned  back  to  Standish.  "You  desire  word 
of  Mistress  Langley  and  of  Mistress  Eileen 
O'Neil?"  His  voice  hurried  ever  so  slightly 
over  the  last  formally  spoken  name. 

"  I  bring  them  tidings,"  Standish  assented 
gravely. 

245 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

For  a  little  neither  spoke  and  the  woman 
came  back  with  the  wine  and  lingered  about 
ere  she  departed.  The  two  men  maintained 
their  pause  like  duelists,  each  on  guard. 

"  Suffer  me  to  present  myself  to  you,"  began 
the  stranger  at  length.  "  Humphrey  Gerard, 
at  your  service,  a  soldier  of  his  Majest}7,  on  my 
way  to  the  forces  in  the  West,  so  soon  as  a 
wound  shall  give  me  leave." 

"  My  name  is  Nathan  Standish,"  replied  the 
Captain  quietly.  "  I  command  a  troop  in  the 
Army  under  Sir  Thomas  Fairfax." 

"Why,  that  is  frankly  owned,"  commented 
Gerard.  "  You  do  not  at  the  least  come  among 
us  as  a  spy." 

The  lightly  uttered  jest  struck  the  Captain  so 
sharply  that  he  drew  back,  catching  his  breath. 
Gerard's  eyes  were  on  him  quick  with  compre- 
hension. 

"You  bear  news  to  Mistress  Langley;  no 
good  news  ?" 

"No." 

Gerard  folded  the  paper  on  which  he  had 
been  writing,  smoothing  it  with  the  precision 
of  a  man  whose  thoughts  are  far  away  from  his 
act. 

"Standish,  Standish,"  he  repeated  softly, 
"  Why  now  I  know,  I  have  heard  of  you,  have 

246 


Facing  the  Guns 


heard  how  you  saved  Roy  O'Neil.  Why — 
what  the  devil  ?     Drink  your  wine,  man." 

Standish  got  to  his  feet. 

"  Can  I  have  a  safe  conduct  to  go  into  the 
Castle  ?  "  he  asked  hoarsely.  "  I  will  go  blind- 
fold, how  they  will,  though  in  truth  there  is 
little  need  for  that.  I  was  prisoner  there  and 
escaped." 

For  all  answer  the  Cavalier  came  up  beside 
Standish,  fronting  him  with  a  level  glance. 

"Is  Roy  O'Neil  dead?"  he  asked  and  then 
as  the  other  nodded  mutely,  "  Thank  God." 

Standish's  hand  caught  at  his  sword  hilt  with 
a  savagery  sprung  of  sheer  pain.  But  he  read 
in  Gerard's  face  a  disarming  gravity  and  he 
controlled  himself  to  repeat  his  question.  That 
question  was  not  answered  at  once.  Gerard 
was  toying  with  the  empty  tankard  before  him. 
From  his  intent  brow  and  lips  '  twas  clear  that 
he  was  weighing  some  question  known  only  to 
himself.  Deciding  it  he  straightened  himself 
with  a  short  sigh. 

"  I  will  endeavour  it,"  he  said.  "  I  know  Sir 
John  and  my  name  will  bear  some  weight.  If 
I  send  word  for  you  to  come  you  will  trust 
me?" 

The  question  was  an  affirmation,  and  Standish 
nodded  a  silent  answer.     His  mind  was  busy 

247 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

with  this  quiet-spoken  Royalist,  busy  with  a 
wonder  moreover  as  to  why  he  felt  so  moved 
to  hate  him.  Of  the  meeting  which  lay  beyond 
he  did  not  think,  locking  his  mind  against  it. 

An  hour  later  Standish  found  himself  once 
more  within  the  earthworks  of  Donnington. 
Before  him  rose  the  great  gate  towers  and  the 
past.  It  seemed  to  him  that  if  he  entered  he 
must  find  Roy  O'Neil  waiting,  laughing,  in  the 
great  hall.  But  he  was  not  to  enter.  Instead 
his  guide  pointed  him  aside  to  one  of  the  stately 
trees  which  still  shadowed  that  contested  emi- 
nence. The  captain  turned  and  walked  towards 
it  slowly  with  head  erect.  He  remembered 
Roy's  light  step  as  he  went  forward  to  the  elm 
trees  and  the  level  pistol  barrels.  And  he  knew 
that  his  own  tread  was  heavy. 

There  was  Eileen  beneath  the  spreading 
boughs ;  just  above  her  head  was  a  gap  of  sun- 
light where  one  of  the  great  branches  had  been 
rent  away  by  a  cannon  shot.  The  splintered 
fragment  reached  out  starkly  amid  the  sur- 
rounding green.  Yet  in  spite  of  that  signifi- 
cant finger-print  of  war  the  place  was  very 
quiet  and  full  of  sun  and  summer. 

Eileen  had  found  a  tangle  of  wild  roses  some- 
where near,  for  her  hands  were  full  of  the  frail 
flowers,  which  she  was  twisting  into  a  posy  while 

248 


Facing  the  Guns 


she  talked  to  Humphrey  Gerard.  Standish  had 
come  quite  close  unperceived  by  either  and  as 
the  soldier,  his  guide,  had  now  left  him,  he  stood 
motionless,  gathering  breath  and  courage.  Ei- 
leen looked  more  the  court  lady  than  the  wilful 
Irish  maiden  he  remembered.  She  wore  her 
green  gown  with  a  pretty  air  of  stateliness  and 
she  smiled  up  at  her  companion  as  not  unused 
to  his  homage.  Humphrey's  dark  face  was 
full  of  a  troubled  gladness  as  he  looked  at  her. 

"  But  the  rose  is  English,"  he  was  insisting. 

" '  Tis  the  Dark  Rose  of  Ireland  for  me,"  re- 
turned Eileen.  "  Why  you  cannot  even  tell  of 
what  hue  is  your  English  rose.  It  hath  been 
red  and  white  as  you  strove  for  it,  and  I  hate 
your  striving." 

With  the  last  words  her  voice  dropped  from 
its  playful  petulance  to  a  note  of  deeper  feel- 
ing. 

Humphrey  paled  somewhat  beneath  his  scar 
as  if  with  a  sudden  pang  of  recollection,  and 
looking  away  from  the  girl's  face  he  met  the 
eyes  of  Captain  Standish.  The  Puritan  had 
been  watching  the  two  with  a  protesting  passion. 
How  akin  they  looked,  how  near  to  each  other, 
how  remote  from  him.  Rage  stirred  within 
him  at  thought  of  the  impassable  barriers 
which   lay   between,   and    self   scorn   that   he 

249 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

should  heed  those  barriers — he,  the  soldier  of 
the  Cause.  And  through  all  the  tumult  he  was 
aware  of  a  great  amaze.  He  had  never  known 
that  he  loved  her.  Humphrey's  glance  re- 
stored him  to  himself  like  the  frank  challenge 
of  an  enemy  and  he  stepped  forward  to  meet  it. 

"And  here,"  said  Gerard,  "is  your  guest  and 
messenger.  I  will  not  hold  you  from  him."  He 
bent  to  claim  her  cheek  for  salute,  but  Eileen's 
glance  flashed  past  him  to  the  Puritan.  She 
caught  her  hands  to  her  breast  with  the  little 
movement  he  remembered  and  then  reached 
them  out  to  him  in  welcome. 

Gerard  had  left  them  silently,  limping 
slightly  as  he  crossed  the  green  sward  to  the 
Castle  gates.  But  the  two  standing  there,  with 
Eileen's  scattered  roses  between  them,  did  not 
speak  for  a  moment.  It  seemed  to  Standish  as 
he  looked  down  upon  her  that  she  had  slipped 
back  from  the  graceful  lady  who  had  smiled  at 
Humphrey  Gerard  into  the  tremulous,  defiant 
Irish  girl  who  had  fronted  the  Puritans  at  her 
brother's  side.  He  scarcely  heard  her  shy, 
hurried  greetings. 

"And  how  could  I  deem  that  it  was  you? 
Will  they  not  suffer  you  into  the  Castle,  for 
my  mother  is  ailing  and  cannot  come  forth." 

250 


Facing  the  Guns 


Wondering  at  his  silence  she  raised  question- 
ing eyes  to  his  white,  tense  face. 

"  But  you  are  hurt,"  she  cried. 

"  No,"  Standish  heard  himself  answering  and 
marvelled  whence  the  words  came.  "  No,  I  am 
not  hurt,  I  have  only  dealt  the  hurt." 

"  Nay,  but  to  whom  ?  " 

Eileen's  eyes  were  still  on  him,  full  of  a  cruel, 
uncomprehending  gentleness.  Standish  strug- 
gled blindly  for  some  word  which  would  end  it 
all,  would  shatter  that  look  of  gentleness  into 
horror  and  hate.  He  was  steeled  for  them — 
he  could  face  them. 

"  Eileen,"  he  said  with  a  desperate  hard- 
ness— he  had  forgotten  all  the  usages  of  formal 
courtesy — "  sure  you  must  have  divined — you 
knew  the  work  whereto  your  brother  was 
bound — you  knew  the  risk  ? " 

A  great  fear  leaped  to  the  girl's  wide  eyes. 

"  Roy,"  she  cried,  "  you  have  come  to  take 
me  to  him." 

Standish  looked  into  her  face  as  Roy  had 
looked  into  the  pistol-muzzles. 

"  There  is  none  can  take  you  to  him." 

Eileen  neither  cried  out  nor  wept  nor  made 
any  sign  of  grief.  For  a  moment  her  whole 
body  quivered  like  a  flame  blown  aside.     Then 

251 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

steadying  she  turned  on  Standish  a  look  which 
made  her  eyes  those  of  her  brother. 

"Who  captured  him?"  she  whispered  very 
softly. 

Standish  opened  his  lips  with  a  mad  resolve 
to  lie,  and  instead  something  which  was  not 
himself  tore  the  stern  answer  out  of  him. 

"  God  laid  the  work  on  me." 

He  saw  the  horror,  the  hate  he  had  desired 
sweep  across  Eileen's  face,  saw  her  hand  spring 
to  her  breast  with  a  gesture  which  would  have 
meant  death  had  the  knife  been  there.  And 
then  her  voice  broke  out  in  the  desolate  cry 
with  which  the  Irish  keen  their  dead. 

"  Roy,  Roy,"  she  wailed,  "  my  brother  that 
should  have  led  our  own  people  and  made  the 
hills  ours.  And  they  have  put  him  where  I 
cannot  come  to  him,  away  in  the  strange 
earth." 

Standish  stood  motionless  before  the  grief 
he  had  no  right  to  share,  and  Eileen's  lament 
flashed  into  passion. 

"And  you  that  he  loved  and  served,"  she 
cried.  "  Oh,  shame  and  death  and  the  anger 
of  God  on  me  that  I  ever  touched  your  hand." 

And  with  the  outcry  she  flung  her  hand 
against  the  rough-barked  tree  so  fiercely  that 
blood  started  at  the  blow.      At  sight  of  the  piti- 

252 


Facing  the  Guns 


ful  little  hurt  something  snapped  in  Nathan 
Standish.  And  in  a  sudden  storm  of  words  he 
told  her  of  Roy's  capture.  She  listened  mutely, 
shuddering  away  from  him.  But  when  he 
came  to  Roy's  angry  vindication  of  his  work 
she  lifted  her  head  and  faced  the  Puritan. 

"  He  was  right  to  do  it,"  she  panted,  "  he 
was  right  to  serve  his  Cause.  I  hate  it — I  hate 
you  all,  but  I  will  serve  the  King  for  Roy's 
sake.  There  shall  be  still  an  O'Neil  against 
you,  till  the  day  comes  when  all  Ireland  sends 
out  her  people  and  Owen  Roe  proves  to  you 
the  name  he  bears." 

"  Mistress  Eileen,"  answered  Standish  gravely, 
"  your  brother  himself  hated  the  work  he  did, 
and  his  one  prayer  to  me  was  that  I  should 
shield  you." 

"  You,"  the  cry  ran  keen  with  a  revolt  that 
had  more  than  hatred  in  it,  "you  that  slew 
him,  that  shamed  him." 

"  There  was  no  shame,"  Standish's  voice  cut 
across  hers.  "  Your  brother  died  as  a  soldier, 
as  he  would  have  wished  to  die.  My  God — 
is  death  so  hard  a  thing  ?  " 

Eileen  caught  her  breath  and  looking  into 
Standish's  face  saw  there  a  passion  which  si- 
lenced her  own. 

"Tell  me." 

253 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

And  in  broken  speech  he  told  her  of  those 
last  moments,  that  parting  of  friend  from 
friend. 

"  I  loved  him,"  said  Nathan  Standish  quietly 
when  he  had  ended,  "  even  as  I  loved  mine 
own  soul,  as  I  love  you,  Eileen  O'Neil,  whom 
I  shall  never  see  again." 

Eileen  recoiled  from  him  with  a  cry,  but  her 
eyes  were  on  his,  were  held  by  his  in  a  des- 
perate, speechless  question  and  answer.  Strid- 
ing forward,  Standish  caught  both  her  hands, 
gripped  them  for  a  moment  drawing  her  to  him, 
nearer  and  still  nearer,  till  nothing  lay  between 
them,  nothing  but  the  measureless  narrowness 
of  a  grave. 

Then  abruptly  releasing  her  Standish  turned 
away,  back  to  his  soldier's  post. 


Encounters 


XIX 

Encounters 


"  ~^^     ^T®>  you  ^°  not  know  me,"  said  Cor- 

M^k         net  Strong,  staring   down  on  his 

^^     questioner  with  a  face  of  stone. 

-^-        ^         The  man  with  whom  he  spoke 

had  but  just  joined  their  ranks, 

having  made  his  way  from  Bristol  barely  in 

time  to  escape  the  keener  watch  and  sharper 

discipline,  which  Prince  Rupert  brought  with 

him   when   he  came  to   take  command.     The 

soldier  looked  at  his  Cornet  in  perplexity.     He 

was  a  strong,  bronzed  man  of  a  weatherbeaten 

ruggedness. 

"'Tis  strange,"  he  muttered,  "I  thought 
your  face  known  to  me  and  I  had  met  with  a 
Reuben  Strong  overseas." 

"Where  was  that?"  Flynt  broke  in  as  the 
Cornet  remained  silent. 

The  newcomer  glanced  doubtfully  at  Flynt 
255 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

and  was  clearly  reassured  by  his  Puritanical 
aspect. 

" '  Twas  at  Point  Allerton  on  Massachusetts' 
Bay,"  he  made  answer.  "  Some  alarum  of  the 
Indians  had  drawn  the  folk  together,  in  especial 
such  as  dwelt  in  the  outlying  settlements.  And 
there  I  had  foregathered  for  a  space  with  this 
Reuben  Strong  which  had  come  in  with  his 
wife.  They  were  of  the  West  Country,  even 
as  I  myself." 

He  looked  again  at  Strong  lingeringly  as 
though  somewhat  loth  to  forego  the  claim  of 
old  acquaintance. 

"  Was  he  of  kin  to  you,  perchance  ?  "  he  per- 
sisted, "  since  you  say  that  you  are  not  he. 
And  your  tongue  has  the  West  Country  trick." 

"  No,  I  am  not  the  man  which  you  knew," 
replied  Strong,  missing  as  it  seemed  the  earlier 
question. 

"  But  you  are  of  kin  to  him,"  reiterated  the 
other  hopefully. 

There  was  an  instant's  brief  but  deep  silence 
while  into  Strong's  eyes  came  the  look  of  a 
creature  at  bay.  Instead  of  answering  he 
touched  his  horse  with  the  spur  and  rode  down 
towards  the  river's  edge. 

"  You  were  best  follow  him,"  observed  Flynt 
256 


Encounters 


with    malicious    amusement,   "the    Cornet  is 
somewhat  distraught  this  day." 

"  I  am  but  newly  returned  to  England,"  an- 
swered the  soldier  half  sullenly, "  and  I  thought 
to  have  found  a  friend  among  strangers." 

He  moved  on  a  few  paces  after  the  Cornet, 
and  Strong  swung  about  to  meet  him.  For  a 
few  moments  they  spoke  together,  still  proceed- 
ing slowly  towards  the  marshy  bank  of  the  Yeo. 
Suddenly  on  the  further  side  a  Royalist  patrol 
flashed  into  sight,  the  hoof  beats  muffled  on  the 
lush  grass  and  only  a  jingle  of  steel  voicing,  as 
it  were,  the  flicker  of  colour.  They  were  close 
to  the  water's  edge,  they  were  pausing,  hover- 
ing almost  within  carbine  shot.  Almost?  Be- 
fore Strong  and  his  companion  had  had  time  to 
rein  back  or  to  fire,  the  foremost  Cavalier  had 
levelled  his  petronel. 

The  Parliamentarians  closed  up  to  their  of- 
ficer, but  the  Royalists  had  wheeled  and  with- 
drawn, and  Cornet  Strong  was  bending  over  his 
companion's  body. 

Flynt  stooped  from  his  saddle  scanning  the 
fallen  man. 

"  Shot  through  the  brain,"  he  commented 
briefly.  "  He  will  question  you  no  more,  Cor- 
net." 

q  257 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

Strong  lifted  a  face  convulsed  between  hor- 
ror and  reluctant  relief. 

"It  was  God's  hand,"  he  muttered  hoarsely 
in  defence,  where  yet  no  man  accused  him. 

"  Belike,"  retorted  Flynt,  "  and  you  will  have 
more  of  the  same  handiwork  if  you  abide  here 
with  your  flag,  to  serve  as  a  lure  for  yonder 
hawks  across  the  river.     Fall  back,  Cornet." 

And  at  that  Captain  Standish  came  galloping 
up  with  a  sharp  rebuke  to  his  officers  for  an 
unauthorized  advance. 

"Are  we  Cavaliers?"  he  demanded  harshly. 

The  reprimand  would  not  earlier  have  taken 
that  form.  But  no  one  noticed  that  save  Lieu- 
tenant Flynt,  who  took  his  share  resignedly, 
while  Strong's  eyes  blazed  for  an  instant. 
When  order  was  restored  Flynt  made  his  way 
to  the  Captain's  side. 

"That  was  a  strange  recognition  the  which 
was  so  suddenly  cut  short,"  he  began.  "'Tis 
in  truth  observable  how  a  man's  past  doth  pur- 
sue him.  But  there,  I  forget  that  our  Cornet 
denied  it  was  his  past.  I  marvel  now,  and  in 
no  malice  neither,  but  mere  philosophic  inquiry 
whether  there  may  be  aught  in  our  saint's  life 
which  he  might  choose  to  disown  ?  " 

Standish's    brows   drew    together.      "Why 
should  you  say  it,  Lieutenant?"  he  demanded. 

258 


Encounters 


And  for  answer  Flynt  recounted  the  scene. 
Standish  did  not  share  his  Lieutenant's  spirit 
of  philosophic  inquiry. 

"  It  is  not  for  us  to  imagine  needless  ill  of 
our  brother-in-arms,"  he  said. 

Flynt  eyed  him  with  amused  surprise.  "  You 
ripen  for  promotion,  Captain.  More  and  more 
our  side  doth  contract  infallibility  and  our  ad- 
versaries imperfection.  And  yet  you  were 
wont — " 

"  What  I  was  is  nothing  to  the  purpose," 
Standish  cut  him  short.     "  What  I  am,  I  am." 

"  By  the  grace  of  God,  which  you  forgot  to 
add,"  murmured  Flynt  and  fell  back  with  a 
salute. 

The  encounter,  which  had  given  Lieutenant 
Flynt  food  for  meditation,  had  plunged  Strong 
into  profound  and  troubled  reverie.  Standish 
had  grown  used  to  these  moods  of  withdrawal 
in  his  companion  and  he  did  not  break  upon 
his  thought.  But  as  he  rode  by,  the  Cornet 
turned  on  him  a  look  of  desperate  question,  of 
appeal. 

"  Do  not  you  doubt  me,"  he  said  as  though 
the  words  were  rung  from  him. 

"  I  do  not,"  replied  the  Captain  with  a  glance 
warm  and  steadfast  as  a  hand  grasp. 

The  two  officers  had  drawn  silently  together 
259 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

in  the  few  days  which  had  passed  since  Stand- 
ish  left  Donnington  and  rejoined  his  troop.  He 
had  taken  his  place  with  a  resolve  to  put  from 
him  all  of  memory  or  relenting  which  might 
weaken  him  for  his  appointed  work.  And  there 
had  come  into  his  eyes  the  stern  peace  of  the 
man  who  will  not  look  back  from  the  steel- 
drawn  furrow. 

During  the  Army's  march  into  Somersetshire 
Standish  had  seen  much  to  strengthen  his 
antagonism  to  the  other  side,  his  allegiance  to 
his  own.  For  Lord  Goring  was  the  Royalist 
Commander  in  those  parts,  and  where  Goring's 
men  were  quartered  was  havoc.  The  outraged 
countryside  sent  up  a  cry  of  indignation 
against  the  spoiler  and  turned  no  hostile  front 
to  the  New  Model  Army. 

That  July  day  Standish's  troop  formed  part 
of  a  detachment  drawn  up  to  watch  the  bridge 
at  Ilchester  and  guard  against  any  possible  sur- 
prise. Beyond  the  defence  of  the  River  Yeo, 
beyond  the  marshy  fields  which  bordered  it, 
Goring,  driven  from  his  lingering  siege  of 
Taunton,  was  strongly  posted.  To  the  West  of 
him  lay  the  Royalist  garrison  of  Langport,  and 
couchant  in  the  distance  the  strongholds  of 
Bridgewater  and  Bristol.  If  Goring  could  hold 
the  line  of  the  Yeo,  if  he  could  baffle  the  ad- 

260 


Encounters 


vancing  Parliament  forces,  he  might  retrieve 
old  disgrace  and  the  Royalist  cause  might  make 
head  once  more.  This  knowledge  was  awake 
in  every  soldier  as  the  men  gazed  fiercely 
Northward  across  the  treacherous,  marshy 
ground,  where  the  rank  vapours  hung  stiflingly 
in  the  heat. 

Fairfax  was  advancing  with  his  Foot  along 
the  line  of  the  river  to  storm  a  passage  at  Yeo- 
ville,  and  any  moment  might  bring  the  shatter- 
ing summons  of  the  trumpet  calling  the  Horse 
to  the  fight.  But  the  day  burned  itself  out, 
the  men  snatching  what  brief  rest  they  might 
in  the  midst  of  their  readiness,  and  still  there 
rose  no  sound  of  conflict. 

The  next  day  came  word  of  the  bridge  peace- 
fully won  and  Goring  at  Langport.  Then  in- 
deed followed  the  summons  to  action.  For  the 
Royalist  leader  had  flung  his  Cavalry  across  the 
river  and  was  pressing  on  swiftly  Southwest- 
ward,  no  man  knowing  whether  he  meant  to 
divert  Fairfax  from  his  course  or  to  attempt  a 
last  surprise  on  the  stubborn  garrison  of  Taun- 
ton. Standish's  troop  was  among  those  which 
were  added  to  Massey's  Gloucester  Horse  and 
launched  in  pursuit.  After  the  inaction  of 
that  watch  by  the  river  came  the  brief,  swift 
ride  across  the  rich  Somersetshire  fields.    There 

261 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

beyond  the  river  Parret,  the  Royalist  Horse 
were  taking  their  ease,  the  chargers  grazing 
peacefully  and  the  men  bathing  in  the  stream 
or  stretched  on  the  soft  grass.  Among  the 
latter  was  the  leader,  Goring  himself,  wholly 
untroubled  by  martial  duties  or  the  burden  of  a 
Cause. 

The  Parliament  Horse  drew  nearer,  stealthily, 
behind  a  sheltering  hedge.  The  gap  through 
which  they  must  charge  was  so  narrow  that 
three  could  not  ride  abreast,  and  if  Goring 
should  turn  on  them  even  now — Standish  felt 
his  breath  tighten  as  he  saw  their  enemies'  op- 
portunity and  their  own  peril  in  that  narrow 
gash  in  the  hedge.  But  already  the  first  of 
the  Parliament  horsemen  were  pushing  through. 
The  Royalist  chance  for  the  defensive  was  over. 

"  Like  leader,  like  men,"  laughed  Flynt  de- 
risively. "  We  have  not  Prince  Rupert  to  deal 
with  here." 

And  with  that  they  were  driving  down  on 
the  scattered  Cavaliers.  Goring  had  roused 
too  late  to  his  danger.  Springing  on  the  near- 
est horse,  he  turned  his  handsome,  wine-wearied 
face  on  the  enemy  and  fought  for  some  few 
moments  like  a  leader.  And  then  the  rout 
took  him  and  he  rode  for  life. 

"  This  is  no  battle,"  cried  Massey  impatiently 
262 


Encounters 


as  he  watched  the  broken  Royalists  making  for 
Langport.  "  Well,  if  Colonel  Goring  stand  at 
bay  in  the  town  we  may  have  some  fighting  yet." 

But  Massey  and  his  men  were  not  recalled 
in  time  for  the  beginning  of  that  battle  of 
Langport,  in  which  Bethell  and  Desborough 
charged  home  so  gallantly  and  Goring's  army 
crumbled  before  Fairfax's  men.  In  the  midst 
of  the  fierce  pursuit  which  followed,  the  Parlia- 
ment Generals  checked  their  men,  reining  them 
back  in  the  very  torrent  of  their  triumph,  and 
awaited  Massey  and  his  reinforcements.  And 
Massey  had  ridden  hard,  pressing  on  with  his 
heavily  armed  troopers,  while  before  them  rose 
the  summoning  clangour  of  the  battle  and  Lang- 
port town  beaconed  fire.  It  was  the  flying 
Royalists  who  had  kindled  their  own  stronghold, 
and  as  Ironside  swept  his  men  into  it,  he  de- 
tached some  for  rescue  and  hurled  the  rest  on 
to  slaughter. 

Captain  Standish,  aware  of  such  a  thirst  for 
victory  as  he  had  not  felt  before,  came  riding 
along  the  main  street  of  Langport  and  was 
checked  by  the  sight  of  Cromwell  motionless 
there  in  the  saddle,  dispatching  swift  orders 
on  the  one  side  and  the  other.  All  around  as 
the  fire  gained  and  the  flying  enemy  drew  fur- 
ther away,  came  the  terrible,  helpless  cry  of 

263 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

the  unarmed,  their  homes  suddenly  blasted  by 
the  sweeping  wind  of  the  battle. 

Cromwell  in  that  moment  seemed  to  hear 
and  see  only  his  purpose,  while  the  rout  swept 
on  in  desperate  disarray,  and  his  own  men 
strained  at  the  leash,  and  above  his  head  the 
volleying  flames  sprang  and  smote  together  in 
a  triumphing  arch.  Standish  was  holding  back 
his  own  troopers  with  an  imperative  gesture 
when  suddenly  a  soldier  flashed  past  him,  past 
Cromwell's  horse  and  lost  himself  in  the  smoke 
beyond.  There  had  been  only  a  streak  of  pass- 
ing steel,  and  no  more  was  seen  till  from  the 
shrouding  fumes  the  rider  returned,  controlling 
as  he  best  could  his  wincing  and  stamping 
horse  and  carrying  a  burden  on  his  saddle  bow. 

The  rider  was  Cornet  Strong  and  the  burden 
he  carried  was  a  frightened  child,  with  the 
scorch  of  fire  on  his  yellow  hair,  who  was  cling- 
ing to  his  rescuer  with  a  child's  unquestioning 
confidence.  Strong  made  as  though  to  ride 
past  the  General  and  rejoin  his  own  troop. 
But  Cromwell's  unforgetting  eyes  had  turned 
on  him. 

"  You  are  the  man  who  rode  to  warn  me  ?  " 
he  said  abruptly.  "  What  manner  of  booty  have 
you  there?"  And  his  lips  were  smiling  and 
his  glance  softened  as  he  looked  at  the  child. 

264 


Encounters 


"  Sir,"  replied  Strong  gravely,  "  the  child 
was  forsaken." 

"Put  him  in  safety,"  commanded  the  Gen- 
eral, "  and  then  to  your  work,  as  I  to  mine.  I 
have  a  Captain's  commission  in  store  for  you." 

Strong  flushed  to  the  brow  and  then  grew 
white.  He  looked  along  the  fiery  pathway  to 
the  rout  and  triumph  beyond,  looked  at  the 
General's  figure,  steadfast  in  the  blur  and  reek 
of  the  encompassing  flame.  Then  warring 
with  the  soldier  passion  that  constrained  him, 
came  some  opposing,  some  obscurer  force.  His 
look  was  on  the  child  snatched  to  his  saddle- 
bow. And  when  he  turned  his  eyes  again  to 
his  General  it  was  like  one  spent  by  a  final 
choice. 

"  Suffer  me  to  abide  in  my  place,  Sir,"  he 
said  and  felt  that  Cromwell's  look  had  hardened 
ere  he  rode  on  to  consummate  his  victory. 

Two  miles  beyond  Langport  the  Royalists 
essayed  a  brief  rally,  but  the  squadrons  of  the 
Parliament,  advancing  in  unbroken  order, 
swept  their  enemies  on  in  irretrievable  panic. 
Some  of  the  fugitives  escaped  to  Bridgewater, 
some  died  in  the  treacherous  bogs,  while  most 
were  delivered  over  to  the  sword  or  to  captiv- 
ity. 

"  General  Goring  made  so  ill  a  stand,  I  doubt 
265 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

that  he  must  have  been  unfortunately  sober," 
commented  Lieutenant  Flynt.  "  Captain,  will 
you  give  me  leave  to  ride  up  to  yon  group  of 
rustics  and  disperse  them.  I  take  it  any  strag- 
glers or  wounded  might  be  the  worse  for  their 
knives." 

"  Choose  out  ten  men,"  answered  Standish, 
"  and  return  forthwith." 

But  the  pursuit  was  over  and  the  prisoners 
and  spoils  were  being  inspected,  and  Lieuten- 
ant Flynt  did  not  return.  He  still  had  not  re- 
turned when  on  the  next  morning  the  march 
was  resumed.  Deep  was  the  triumph  of  the 
Puritan  army  as  it  marched  towards  Bridge- 
water.  If  Goring  had  played  his  part  well, 
behind  his  defences  of  marshes  and  river  and 
within  reach  of  his  Royalist  garrisons,  a  harder 
task  than  Naseby  might  have  confronted  the 
New  Model  Army,  which  did  not  here  so  out- 
number its  enemies.  Now  the  Royalists  could 
menace  no  further  and  the  Clubmen,  those  wild 
bands  of  insurgent  peasants,  were  likely  to  side 
with  the  conquerors  and  take  vengeance  for  Gor- 
ing's  plundering.  The  question  of  the  Clubmen 
was  now  the  most  instant,  and  Hollis  their  leader, 
with  his  tens  of  thousands  behind  him,  had 
been  negotiating  with  Fairfax  well  nigh  as  an 
equal. 

266 


Encounters 


As  the  victorious  march  of  the  Army  brought 
it  near  to  the  slope  of  Knoll  Hill  a  sudden  dis- 
cordant blare  of  swine-herd's  horns  snarled  out 
an  ironic  answer  to  the  trumpets.  The  un- 
couth greeting  was  not  hostile,  for  a  motley 
procession  was  soon  visible  advancing  to  meet 
the  Army.  The  Clubmen  ragged  and  gaunt, 
desperate  with  need  and  with  their  revolt 
against  need,  had  grouped  themselves  into 
some  rough  semblance  of  order.  The  miser- 
able bands,  armed  with  pitchforks  and  scythes 
and  all  the  peaceful  weapons  of  the  harvest,  for 
which  no  harvest  was  forthcoming,  marched  on 
with  a  waving  of  makeshift  banners.  Halting 
at  some  little  distance,  two  or  three  men  de- 
tached themselves  and  came  forward  like  en- 
voys. These  men  were  escorted  straight  to 
General  Fairfax,  and  returning  from  him  they 
bore  to  their  ragged  companies  his  promise  of 
protection  and  justice,  and  of  fair  payment  for 
all  that  the  soldiers  might  take.  And  there- 
with the  Clubmen  sent  up  a  great  shout  in  hon- 
our of  the  New  Model  Army. 

As  Captain  Stan  dish  at  the  head  of  his  troop 
rode  by  the  turbulant  ranks  of  the  peasants, 
his  eye  was  caught  by  a  soldierly  figure  among 
them.  He  turned  in  his  saddle,  looked  sharply 
and  looked  again.     Some  of  the  Clubmen  were 

267 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

wearing  steel  caps  or  corselets,  spoils  clearly 
taken  from  fallen  stragglers.  But  this  man 
was  in  the  full  uniform  of  the  Army.  He  re- 
turned, moreover,  the  Captain's  recognition, 
for  at  sight  of  him  he  moved  forward,  waving 
an  elaborate  farewell  to  his  rough  companions. 

"  Can  you  provide  me  with  a  horse,  Captain," 
inquired  Lieutenant  Flynt  composedly  as  he 
came  up  to  Standish's  stirrup. 

"I  feared  you  fallen,"  exclaimed  the  Cap- 
tain. "  How  come  you  to  be  safe  and  in  this 
company?" 

Flynt  had  by  this  time  mounted  and  settled 
himself  in  the  saddle  with  an  air  of  compla- 
cency. 

"I  did  think  indeed,"  he  confessed,  "that  I 
was  likely  to  fall  ingloriously,  for  I  outstripped 
my  escort  and  riding  into  that  knot  of  rustics, 
was  precipitately  knocked  from  my  horse  and 
disarmed.  They  were  nowise  propitious  to 
soldiers,  even  of  our  side,  for  when  they  had 
carried  me  to  a  safe  distance,  one  which  ap- 
peared a  leader  questioned  me  shrewdly  con- 
cerning our  plans,  displaying  a  great  inclination 
to  counter  them." 

"  You  did  not — "  exclaimed  Standish  hastily 
and  then  broke  off  short. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  Captain's  acquaint- 
268 


Encounters 


ance  with  him,  Lieutenant  Flynt's  eyes  had 
flashed  quite  humanly. 

"  Philosophy  doth  not  teach  a  man  coward- 
ice," said  Flynt  quietly. 

"How  did  you  escape  them?"  asked  Stand- 
ish. 

Flynt  waved  a  hand  towards  the  retreating 
Clubmen. 

"  I  captured  them,"  he  explained  calmly ; 
"  with  the  help  of  my  philosophic  companion, 
the  good  Doctor — his  book,  I  mean,  as  Sir 
Thomas  was  not  with  me  in  the  flesh." 

Standish  stared  inquiringly,  but  Flynt's  coun- 
tenance was  quite  serious. 

"  They  were  loud  in  threats,"  he  continued, 
"  till  that  I  set  forth  to  them  mine  understand- 
ing of  the  tender  filaments  whereby  our  life 
doth  hang,  and  how  that  I  'considering  the 
thousand  doors  that  lead  to  death,  do  thank  my 
God  that  we  can  die  but  once.'  In  very  truth," 
Flynt  added  with  a  relaxation  of  his  gravity 
by  which  it  might  be  inferred  that  he  was  really 
in  earnest,  "  I  did  think  myself  given  over  to 
destruction  and  found  consolation  in  the  assur- 
ance, 'that  there  are  no  Poignards  in  death 
itself  like  those  in  the  way  or  prologue  to  it.' " 

"  But  you  were  not  killed,"  smiled  Standish. 

"That,"  retorted  Flynt  testily,  "is  self-evi- 
269 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

dent.  Finding  that  they  had  a  soldier  which 
did  neither  swear  nor  pray,  they  took  me  as  a 
man  of  mark  to  one  of  their  gathering  places, 
and  there  I  harangued  the  leaders  concerning 
the  difference  betwixt  our  troops  and  General 
Goring' s,  protesting  that  where  Cromwell's  men 
come  the  country  leaps  for  joy  of  them.  Our 
men  are  disciplined,'  quoth  I,  'for  sure  the 
power  of  discipline  lies  in  the  paymaster's 
chest,  and  our  Army  doth  expect  forcibly  to  be 
paid.'  Believe  me,"  concluded  Flynt,  "  I  spent 
as  many  fair  words  as  would  have  passed  a 
Self-Denying  Ordinance,  and  behold,  we  have 
the  alliance  of  the  Clubmen.  I  am  glad,"  he 
added  thoughtfully,  "  that  I  am  out  of  their 
grasp  before  these  rustics  do  make  acquaintance 
with  even  our  New  Model  soldiers."  With 
which  final  caustic  reflection,  Lieutenant  Flynt 
fell  back,  leaving  his  Captain  to  realise  as  best 
he  could  the  truth,  that  this  philosophic  soldier 
had  faced  death  for  his  work  in  his  own  fash- 
ion. 


Before  Bristol 


XX 

Before  Bristol 


SULLEN  rain  above  Bristol:  Bristol  ly- 
ing in  its  threefold  engirding  of  grey 
walls,  grey  river  and  steel  grey  belt  of 
the  Parliament  Army.  It  was  over  a 
week  since  the  investment  of  the  great 
seaport  town;  since  Ireton,  first  of  all,  had 
launched  his  forces  on  the  Royalists,  and,  fol- 
lowing hard  on  that  advanced  guard,  the  whole 
Army,  fresh  from  its  triumphs  in  Somersetshire, 
had  drawn  about  the  walls.  And  ever  since 
the  rain  had  been  falling,  soaking  through  the 
tents  and  rough  huts  of  the  besiegers,  dimming 
the  masts  and  cordage  of  the  Puritan  ships 
which  had  sailed  up  the  Severn  to  their  aid. 
It  had  shrouded  Bristol  walls  so  that  the  guns 
of  the  besieged  belched  an  invisible  death;  it 
had  drawn  a  misty  pall  over  the  desolate  and 
plague-stricken  streets  within. 
271 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

Cornet  Strong  stood  looking  towards  the  city 
with  a  devouring  wistfulness.  He  was  not  think- 
ing of  the  triumph  of  the  Cause,  of  the  certainty 
that  Prince  Rupert,  who  had  rent  Bristol  from 
them  in  the  fierce  storming  of  the  town  two 
years  agone,  could  now  hold  its  walls  but  a 
brief  while  longer  against  them.  Instead 
Strong  was  looking  back  into  his  own  life, 
striving  to  gather  up  the  years  that  lay  be- 
tween, since  last  he  had  looked  on  Bristol  walls, 
leaving  a  child  there  to  be  re-claimed  in  safer 
days  when  the  Lord's  work  was  done.  And 
that  work  was  not  done  yet. 

Strong  began  to  pace  up  and  down,  heedless 
of  the  chill  wind  that  drove  the  rain  in  his  face 
and  matted  his  long,  dark  hair.  He  had  won 
much — Standish  had  given  him  comradeship, 
friendship,  and  yet  Strong's  heart  cried  out  in 
an  unappeasable  hunger.  Seeking  as  ever  to 
still  that  outcry  by  the  call  of  his  work,  he 
turned  from  his  gazing  and  strode  down  the 
lane  between  the  rough  huts  where  his  troop 
was  quartered.  There  was  need  of  constant,  of 
instant  vigilance,  for  no  man  could  say  when 
the  sudden  flash  of  a  sortie  might  leap  from 
those  brooding  walls.  Again  and  still  again, 
Prince  Rupert  had  dashed  his  scanty  forces  in 
fierce  onset  against  the  contracting  iron  circle 

272 


Before  Bristol 


of  the  besiegers.  So  even  when  duty  might 
have  spared  his  watchfulness  Cornet  Strong 
was  among  the  soldiers  with  unceasing  care. 

Now  as  he  glanced  down  the  narrow  aisle 
of  the  camp,  Strong  saw  a  group  of  the  men 
gathered  in  eager  talk.  For  the  most  part  in 
that  stern  and  zealous  Army  such  a  sight  would 
have  meant  that  some  self-authorised  divine 
was  holding  forth,  or  some  political  dreamer 
building  his  visions  of  a  perfect  state.  But 
this  time  as  the  knot  of  men  parted,  not  with- 
out rough  laughter,  a  woman  slipped  from  their 
midst  and  made  her  way  quickly  and  lightly 
on  between  the  huts.  Strong's  brow  darkened 
and  he  took  a  quick  stride  onward  as  if  in  pur- 
suit. The  woman  was  poorly  habited,  wearing 
a  hooded  cloak  of  grey,  and  she  carried  on  one 
arm  a  basket  heaped  with  herbs. 

Strong  watched  her  with  a  sad  sternness  but 
with  the  look  of  one  shadowed  by  an  inner 
thought  rather  than  concerned  with  that  which 
he  gazed  on.  And  while  he  watched  a  soldier 
had  met  and  stopped  the  hooded  woman. 

"What  wares  have  you  there?"  he  asked 
with  a  hand  on  the  basket  but  a  free  glance 
into  the  bearer's  face. 

"Herbs  and  simples,"  she  answered  in  a 
clear  voice,  "  cures  for  fever  and  wounds,"  and 
B  273 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

her  voice  dropped  somewhat  "sure  prevent- 
ives of  the  plague  which  is  raging  yonder." 
She  pointed  with  a  tremulous  gesture  towards 
Bristol. 

The  man  followed  her  movement  with  an 
uneasy  glance,  "Nay  then,"  he  growled,  "we 
are  assured  by  the  General  that  the  Lord  will 
preserve  us  even  against  the  plague  if  we  be 
so  fond  to  storm  a  pesthouse.  But  in  the 
meanwhile,"  he  shook  off  his  fear  in  a  boister- 
ous laugh,  "  here  be  the  best  of  thy  wares," 
and  stooping  suddenly  he  kissed  her  with  vio- 
lence. 

She  struggled  to  escape  his  grasp,  but, 
strangely  enough,  without  uttering  a  cry. 
Help  was  nearer  than  she  could  have  deemed. 
Cornet  Strong  sprang  upon  the  soldier,  wrench- 
ing him  from  his  prey. 

"May  God  judge  thee,"  he  cried  sternly, 
"and  the  memory  of  the  mother  which  bore 
thee.  Get  thee  hence  from  the  woman,  thou 
carnal  sinner,  lest  I  denounce  thee  as  unworthy 
to  draw  the  sword  among  God's  elect." 

Cowed  and  angry  the  man  drew  away,  for 

that  Puritan  Army  gave  harsh  measure  to  any 

soldier  guilty  of  misrule.     The  Cornet  turned 

with  an  impersonal  pity  to  the  woman  who 

274 


"  '  GET    THEE    HENCE    FROM    THE    WOMAN,    THOU    CARNAL    SINNER  ! 


Before  Bristol 


still  crouched  near  him,  her  herbs  scattered  on 
the  ground. 

"  Here  is  no  fitting  place  for  thee,"  said  the 
Puritan.     "  Rise  and  follow,  that  I  may — " 

The  words  snapped  in  a  sudden  cry,  for  the 
girl  had  looked  up  and  met  his  eyes.  The 
next  instant  she  had  sprung  erect,  fronting 
him. 

"  You  dare  not  stay  me,"  said  Eileen  O'Neil. 

As  they  stood  confronting  each  other,  the 
slender  girl  in  her  course  disguise  and  the 
Puritan  in  his  steel,  the  fear  leaped  into  the 
soldier's  eyes.  Eileen  saw  her  advantage  and 
turned  swiftly  as  if  to  pass  him  by.  But  he 
caught  her  arm  and  withheld  her. 

"  Was  not  your  brother's  fall  a  sign  of  the 
wrath  of  God  upon  your  house  and  upon  your 
Cause,  that  you  must  needs  come  hither  to  pro- 
voke again  the  judgment  of  Heaven  ?  " 

Eileen  looked  up  unflinchingly. 

"  Disguise  may  be  worn  for  a  good  purpose," 
she  answered,  "  and  I  at  least  do  take  no  shame 
to  myself.  Suffer  me  pass  on,  for  I  will  not  be 
stayed." 

Strong's  face  had  grown  grey  and  he  an- 
swered with  difficulty. 

"I  cannot  let  you  go — nay,  not  for  your 
275 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

womanhood.  My  God,  must  not  a  woman  face 
her  part  even  as  another  ?  " 

"  I  warn  you,"  whispered  Eileen  O'Neil. 
And  then  as  she  read  no  sign  of  relenting  in 
his  rigid  face,  she  clung  to  Strong's  arm  with 
a  sudden  sob. 

"  You  must  not  keep  me,"  she  cried.  "  Has 
not  enough  been  done  and  suffered  ?  Let  me 
go.  I  desire  not  vengeance  on  you,  but  if  you 
stay  me — " 

Strong  had  turned  away  that  he  might  not 
meet  the  passion  of  pleading  and  menace  in 
her  eyes.     Now  he  swung  round  on  her. 

"  Silence,"  he  said  with  a  peremptory  gesture. 
"  Silence ;  come  with  me.     God  shall  judge." 

He  drew  her  away  and  she  yielded  mutely  in 
a  tremulous  hope  that  he  would  lead  her  to  the 
outskirts  of  the  camp.  Instead  he  paused  at 
the  door  of  one  of  the  rough  huts  which  served 
most  of  the  soldiers  for  tents.  At  the  sill  he 
stood  for  a  moment  and  the  girl  in  his  grasp 
felt  that  she  met  death  in  his  eyes.  As  she 
shrank  away  Strong  read  her  thought  and 
answered  to  it. 

"  Fear  not,"  he  said  with  a  grim  deliberate- 
ness,  "  verily  the  Lord  hath  delivered  thee  into 
my  hands,  yet  I  may  not  take  thy  life.  It  may 
be,"  he  added  in  a  troubled  undertone,  "  it  may 

276 


Before  Bristol 


be  that  I  sin  therein,  but  He  knoweth  our 
frailty  and  remembereth  that  we  are  but  dust." 

The  two  passed  into  the  low  and  narrow 
cabin,  and  whatever  duel  of  wills  was  fought 
there,  there  came  but  a  muffled  beat  of  voices 
to  the  soldiers  who  paced  outside. 

When  Cornet  Strong  came  forth  he  had  the 
spent  look  of  one  mortally  hurt.  But  there 
was  no  faltering  as  he  called  up  one  of  the  men 
and  bade  him  stand  guard  at  the  hut,  neither 
entering  nor  suffering  others  to  enter.  This 
being  done,  Strong  set  out  Eastward  towards 
Ashley  Hill.  He  knew  that  Colonel  Ireton 
was  to  be  found  there  at  the  farm  house  which 
served  as  the  headquarters  of  the  Lord  General 
Fairfax.  And  it  was  to  Ireton  this  word  must 
go,  since  the  Cornet  was  deeply  resolved  that 
Eileen's  fate  should  not  be  put  into  the  hands 
of  Captain  Standish.  Surely  he  had  done  his 
part  and  proved  his  faith.  And  Strong  recoiled 
from  the  thought  that  he  should  need  turn  on 
the  sister  the  edge  of  that  judgment  which  had 
doomed  the  brother.  To  Ireton's  steady  hand 
he  would  commit  the  stern  work.  And  what- 
ever followed — Strong  put  from  him  with  an 
inward  shudder  the  thought  of  the  Provost 
Marshal. 

The  quiet  farmhouse  on  the  hill  had  taken 
277 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

on  a  strangely  militant  air.  The  courtyard 
was  full  of  soldiers,  of  horses  bridled  and  sad- 
dled ready  for  swift  mounting  and  riding,  and 
the  homely  garden  plot  had  been  defaced  and 
trampled  by  many  a  spurred  tread.  The 
Council  was  over,  so  Strong  heard  from  the 
sentry  at  the  door,  but  Ireton  was  still  within 
the  place.  At  the  Cornet's  word  of  an  urgent 
report,  he  was  suffered  to  pass  in  and  went  un- 
checked through  the  low  hallway.  Voices 
came  from  a  room  opening  to  his  left  and 
thither  he  turned.  Strong  thought  with  a 
passing  wonder  that  there  should  have  been  a 
guard  at  that  inner  door  as  well,  and  so  think- 
ing he  advanced  quietly  to  the  threshold. 

The  three  men  within  were  too  much  en- 
grossed in  their  discourse  to  be  aware  of  his  ap- 
proach. At  the  paper-strewn  table  sat  Ireton, 
quill  in  hand,  bending  an  intent  brow  to  his  work. 
So  busied,  he  seemed  to  have  put  the  soldier 
from  him  with  the  steel  cap  which  lay  in  sug- 
gestive nearness  to  his  ink  horn.  Not  far  from 
him  the  Lord  General  leaned  beside  the  hearth, 
turning  a  strenuous,  wearied  face  on  his  officer. 
The  blazing  logs — for  that  September  day  fell 
chill — ca^t  a  changeful  light  on  his  long,  dark 
hair,  and  the  sword  cut  he  carried  from  Marston 
Moor.     The   Lieutenant   General  was   pacing 

278 


Before  Bristol 


the  room  with  the  look  of  one  ill  content. 
Strong's  eyes  travelled  from  one  to  the  other,  a 
great  longing,  a  great  rebellion  in  his  heart. 
He  had  only  asked  to  serve  and  follow  these 
leaders  in  the  Lord's  work  :  why  was  the  way 
so  crossed  by  importunate  passions  ? 

"Thus,  your  Excellency,"  read  Ireton,  "'I 
take  into  consideration  your  Royal  birth  and 
relation  to  the  crown,  your  honour,  courage,  the 
virtues  of  your  person,  the  strength  of  that  place, 
which  you  may  think  yourself  bound  and  able 
to  maintain.' " 

Fairfax  nodded  silently,  but  Cromwell's  brows 
furrowed. 

"  Too  much  of  phrase  and  preamble,"  he 
broke  out  harshly.  "  What  need  of  more  than 
summons  and  storm ;  and  the  briefer  the  better 
fitted  for  our  purpose." 

Fairfax  lifted  his  head  with  a  sudden  dilation 
of  the  nostrils. 

"  We  have  to  deal  with  a  gallant  enemy  and 
a  Prince  of  the  blood.  I  shall  not  show  less 
courtesy  than  he  hath  used  towards  me. 
Moreover  " — he  paused  with  a  glance  at  Ireton 
who  for  his  part  was  watching  Cromwell. 

"  The  arguments,"  said  Ireton  gravely,  "  are 
of  some  weight.  Here,  Sir,"  he  addressed  Fair- 
fax, "I  have  briefly  put  into  shape  your  Ex- 

279 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  ton's  Horse 

cellency's  expostulations  concerning  the  rights 
of  King  and  Parliament,  and  concerning  the 
Parliament's  friendship  for  his  Highness' s  own 
house." 

Fairfax  reached  for  the  paper. 

"  My  own  kinsfolk,"  he  said,  "  have  given 
their  blood  in  the  cause  of  the  Palatinate." 
He  glanced  down  the  written  sheet,  "  '  Sir,  the 
Crown  of  England  is  and  will  be  where  it  ought 
to  be  ;  we  fight  to  maintain  it  there.'  " 

"Do  we  so?"  mused  Oliver  Cromwell  aloud. 
His  look  was  gloomy,  but  Ireton's  direct  eyes 
kindled. 

"Yes,  till  the  people  rule,"  he  said  as  he 
rose  and  caught  up  his  steel  cap. 

"  Sir,"  said  Cromwell  curtly,  "  I  put  my  faith 
in  the  strength  of  the  Lord  God,  and  the  weak- 
ness of  Bristol  walls.  Is  it  your  pleasure  that 
we  support  the  summons  by  preparation  for  a 
general  storm  ?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Fairfax,  "it  is  good  elo- 
quence." 

During  the  talk  Strong  had  twice  advanced 
and  drawn  back.  Now  he  addressed  Ireton  as 
he  turned  to  go. 

"A  woman  captured  who  will  give  no  ac- 
count of  herself  ?  "  his  colonel  repeated.     "  Be 

280 


Before  Bristol 


that  later.  To  your  place,  Cornet,  work 
presses." 

And  already  through  the  curving  lines  of 
the  camp  throbbed  the  quick  call  of  the 
trumpets,  and  rose  the  din  of  readiness. 
Strong  hastened  back  to  his  place,  watching 
as  he  did  so  the  forming  of  the  "  forlorn  hopes," 
ladders,  faggots  and  firearms  prepared,  and  the 
quick  marshalling  of  the  Foot  regiments  which 
must  be  first  at  the  attack.  His  soul  sprang 
up  in  a  thanksgiving  which  was  fitly  voiced 
by  the  blare  of  bugle  and  trumpet  and  the 
stirring  dissonance  of  steel.  Once  again,  what- 
ever the  future  might  bring,  once  again  he 
was  to  hold  his  accustomed  place  and  follow 
his  Captain's  word.  What  if  in  that  hour  of 
storm,  that  final  onslaught  on  the  last  strong- 
hold and  rallying  place  of  the  foe,  should  come 
his  own  hour  of  completed  service  and  order  of 
release.  The  ordnance  shocked  out,  riving  the 
rain  mists  asunder,  and  Strong  obeyed  the  sum- 
mons. 

"  A  sword,"  he  said  aloud,  "  a  sword  is  sharp- 
pened  and  it  is  furbished." 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 


XXI 

Foes  in  Council 


THE  mist  and  rain  were  sundering 
above  the  town,  beaten  back  by  a 
strong  sea  wind.  The  threatened 
general  storm  had  been  no  more 
than  a  threat,  but  it  had  kept  the 
soldiers  unsparingly  to  their  work;  and  now 
Captain  Standish,  wearied  out,  was  sleeping 
heavily  in  his  hut.  There  had  come  a  lull  in 
the  scattered  firing,  and  for  that  hour  at  least 
no  sudden  sortie  was  to  be  looked  for.  Mes- 
sengers from  his  Highness  were  in  the  Parlia- 
ment camp,  bearing  his  answer  to  the  Lord 
General's  summons,  and  that  meant  a  breath- 
ing time  of  truce.  Standish  was  roused  by  a 
sudden  clank  of  steel,  and  looked  up  to  find  a 
soldier  saluting  him  in  the  doorway.  The  man 
reported  that  a  stranger,  as  it  appeared  a  Roy- 
alist, had  just  been  seized,  attempting  to  pass 

282   ' 


Foes  in  Council 


without  answering  the  sentries'  challenge.  He 
came  from  that  part  of  the  camp  where  Fair- 
fax's own  regiment  was  quartered,  and  he  pro- 
fessed himself  in  urgent  search  of  Captain 
Standish.  He  had  suffered  himself  to  be  dis- 
armed without  protest. 

"Send  him  hither,"  commanded  Standish 
curtly,  rising  from  the  camp  bed. 

The  hut  was  low  and  dark,  and  the  light 
filtered  in  reluctantly  through  the  sheeted  rain. 
At  the  first  moment  the  Captain  could  distin- 
guish nothing  but  a  dark  figure  which  stepped 
haltingly  across  the  threshold.  Then  it  was  as 
though  the  past  had  taken  shape  and  risen  up 
to  front  him,  that  past  which  he  had  put  from 
him,  had  buried,  had  forgotten.  The  apparition 
was  all  hostile  to  him,  and  he  laid  hand  on  his 
pistol  as  he  faced  it.  But  the  newcomer  flung 
up  an  open  right  hand. 

"  I  come  as  a  friend ;  at  the  least  I  come  not 
as  an  enemy,"  said  Humphrey  Gerard. 

The  Captain's  hand  dropped,  but  there  was 
no  softening  in  the  look  with  which  he  re- 
garded his  visitant.  A  thought  of  Roy  came  to 
edge  his  suspicion  with  bitterness. 

"And  what  do  you  in  our  camp  whether 
as  friend  or  enemy,  Master  Gerard  ? "  he  de- 
manded. 

283 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

Gerard  stepped  into  the  hut  unbidden,  shak- 
ing the  rain  from  cloak  and  hat  as  he  did  so. 
He  looked  hard  at  Standish  and  answered  his 
question  as  if  not  ill  content  to  delay  for  a  brief 
space  whatever  weightier  matter  lay  behind. 

"  I  came  with  those  officers  which  bore  his 
Highness' s  message,  detached  myself  from  my 
party  and  risked  seeking  you  out.  I  suppose 
you  may  hold  me  prisoner ;  your  knaves  have 
taken  my  sword." 

Standish  eyed  him  in  wonder. 

"  I  do  not  desire  to  take  advantage  of  you," 
he  said,  "remembering — but  why  should  you 
force  me  to  remember?" 

"  I  came  to  learn  if  you  had  forgotten,"  said 
Humphrey  Gerard,  "  but  if  you  still  remember 
Mistress  Eileen  O'Neil,  it  is  well  that  you  should 
hear  that  she  is  a  prisoner  in  your  camp." 

Standish  uttered  a  wordless  cry  and  dropped 
back  on  his  pallet,  staring  blindly  at  the  man 
who  spoke. 

"A  prisoner,"  he  echoed  hoarsely  at  last. 

"A  prisoner,"  repeated  Humphrey  Gerard 
with  level  distinctness,  "seized  in  the  act  of 
attempting  to  pass  through  your  lines  and  there- 
fore in  danger — How  have  you  treated  the 
women  which  were  captured  in  the  bearing  of 

284 


Foes  in  Council 


messages  ?  Will  it  be  the  torture  of  the  match 
or  merely  death  by  the  rope  ?  " 

Standish  motioned  him  to  silence.  Into  his 
face  blent  with  the  horror,  had  stolen  something 
of  the  dark  fatalism  which  shadowed  Cornet 
Strong. 

"  First  Roy,"  he  muttered,  "  and  now — Are 
they  doomed  root  and  branch  ?  And  am  I  to 
stand  by  yet  again?  " 

In  his  sombre  brooding  he  forgot  the  man 
whose  word  had  plunged  him  there,  he  forgot 
everything  save  the  powerless  despair  which 
held  him.  He  had  steeled  and  tempered  him- 
self to  be  a  worthy  part  of  the  Army,  and  now 
the  iron  strength  of  the  Army  bore  him  down. 
By  that  strength  he  knew  himself  helpless. 
Baffled  by  his  silence,  Gerard  caught  his  shoulder 
in  a  savage  grip. 

"Is  that  your  answer?"  he  cried.  "Man, 
will  you  wait  here  while — "  he  choked  into 
sudden  silence. 

The  Captain  passed  his  hand  across  his  fore- 
head. He  had  the  sense  of  an  old  scene  acted 
anew  to  the  same  predestined  end. 

"  There  will  be  nothing,  no  danger,"  he  said 
with  an  effort,  "  while  this  truce  lasts.  Tell  me 
briefly  of  what  has  chanced.  '  Tis  but  a  mad- 
man's dream,"  he  added  beneath  his  breath, 

285 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

"  or  else  a  lie,"  and  he  glanced  sharply  at  Ger- 
ard with  a  quickening  of  his  suspicion. 

"I  have  no  sword,  Sir,"  said  the  Royalist 
quietly. 

Standish  started  like  a  man  awakening.  "  I 
ask  your  pardon,  Sir,  you  bring  strange  tidings 
and  heavy,  and  I  have  spoken  not  knowing 
what  I  say.  How  can  you  be  assured  of  this 
which  you  tell  me?" 

"Very  simply."  Gerard  began  to  pace  up 
and  down  unevenly.  "We  knew,  but  how  I 
may  not  tell  you,  that  a  message  was  to  be 
passed  through  your  lines  if  possible.  We  were 
on  the  watch,  therefore.  Amongst  other  en- 
deavours, my  servant  volunteered  to  slip  out  of 
the  town,  and  strive  to  meet  our  messenger  half 
way.  Poor  lad,  I  had  saved  him  from  the  gal- 
lows for  theft,  and  he  is  fool  enough  to  be  grate- 
ful for  it.  Well,  I  hazarded  the  life  which  I  had 
saved  and  let  him  go.  This  day  he  returned  to 
me. 

Gerard  stopped ;  his  face  was  drawn  beneath 
the  scar  which  masked  it  and  he  drew  breath 
heavily  as  he  went  on. 

"  The  lad  had  seen  our  messenger.  She  gave 
him  the  sign — yes,  it  was  a  woman — but  before 
he  could  reach  her  she  was  seized  on  by  some 
of  your  soldiery.     He  crept  away,  fearful  of 

286 


Foes  in  Council 


endangering  both  lives  should  he  strive  to  come 
to  her.  He  brought  me  word  of  what  had  be- 
fallen, and  word,  moreover,"  Gerard  hardened 
his  voice  into  deliberateness,  "  that  the  prisoner 
was  that  Mistress  Eileen  which  I  had  known  at 
Donnington.  The  boy  swore  to  it,  being  sure, 
quoth  he,  of  her  voice  and  her  blue  eyes." 

Standish  covered  his  face  with  a  groan ;  then 
he  looked  up  at  his  enemy  with  a  desperate  ap- 
peal. 

"  How  could  it  be  ?  What  devil's  work  sent 
her  hither?" 

Gerard  shook  his  head.  "  I  can  but  surmise. 
It  was  to  carry  on  her  brother's  work,  most 
like.  She  spoke  wildly  more  than  once  of  her 
will  to  serve  and  avenge  him.  I  thought '  twas 
but  her  grief  which  spoke.  She  talked  much 
to  me  of  Roy,  for  her  mother  was  grievously 
sick  and  could  not  bear  the  truth.  She  does 
not  even  now  know  of  his  death." 

"  You  knew  that  it  was  I  which  took  him  ?  " 
asked  Standish. 

Gerard  stared  at  him  incredulously.  "She 
said  that  you  had  saved  him  from  the  spy's 
death  for  which  we  all  thought  him  making." 

"  That  is  true,  but  I  had  captured  him." 

Gerard  laughed  shortly. 
287 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

"  Trust  a  woman's  trust,"  he  said.  "  I  thought 
that  she  had  told  me  all." 

He  measured  Standish  with  a  darkening 
glance. 

"  How  will  you  save  her?  "  he  asked  abruptly. 

"  I  am  as  a  man  dead,"  answered  the  Puritan. 
"Listen.  When  I  took  Roy  O'Neil  I  had  the 
power  to  fail  in  my  duty  did  I  so  choose — and 
I  did  not  choose.  I  slew  the  man  I  loved. 
Here  I  have  no  choice.  I  have  no  power  to 
set  this  prisoner  free,  though  I  damned  my  soul 
to  do  it,  which  I  would." 

At  the  last  savage  words  a  spark  shot  into 
Gerard's  strained  eyes ;  it  might  have  been  re- 
lief or  resentment.  He  dropped  down  on  the 
rough  stool  near  the  door  and  leaned  forward, 
scanning  the  young  Puritan's  erect  figure. 

"You  have  influence  with  your  superiors," 
he  suggested. 

"  Not  enough,"  answered  Standish,  "  to  in- 
sure pardon  to  any  acting  against  the  Common- 
wealth." He  recalled  Ireton's  words.  "Yet 
therein  lies  my  one  hope.  I  will  set  my  soul 
on  the  plea  I  make." 

"I  think  not,"  answered  the  older  man, 
quietly,  "  for  to  that  plea  goes  full  confession 
and  then  if  you  fail — "  he  did  not  need  to  end 
the  sentence. 

288 


Foes  in  Council 


"  God ! "  cried  Nathan  Standish  like  a  man 
on  the  rack. 

Gerard  paid  no  heed  to  the  other's  passion. 

"  To  be  taken  as  a  messenger,  or  spy  in  your 
camp  may  mean  death  or  worse  even.  But 
how  if  she  came  thither  with  no  such  intent." 

"  Quick,  man,"  cried  Standish,  "  I  go  blindly 
here,  you  have  had  time — can  you  see  an  es- 
cape ?  " 

Gerard  raised  his  eyes  to  him  in  a  long, 
straight  glance. 

"  If  she  came  to  seek  her  husband  ?  " 

Standish  quivered  and  recoiled  beneath  the 
word. 

"  To  save  her  thus — by  a  lie  ?  " 

Gerard's  lips  tightened. 

"  And  if  it  were  no  he  ?  " 

"You  are  mad,"  cried  Nathan  Standish, 
while  the  madness  flooded  him  with  an  impos- 
sible hope.  "  She  is  of  alien  blood  and  creed, 
and  her  brother's  death  lies  upon  me." 

Gerard's  eyes  were  on  the  ground  now. 

"  The  need  is  deadly,"  he  said,  "  and  where 
love  is — " 

"  She  hates  me,"  said  Standish  simply.    "  How 
can  she  but  hate  me — and  yet  Roy  bade  me 
shield  her.     He  trusted  me  even  in  his  death." 
s  289 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

It  was  his  turn  to  walk  the  narrow  room  like 
a  caged  thing. 

"  She  will  never  yield,"  he  cried,  "  never !  " 

Gerard  was  watching  him  narrowly. 

"  It  is  true,"  he  observed,  "  you  will  some- 
what endanger  your  career  by  wedding  with  a 
Papist." 

Standish  wheeled  on  him. 

"  You  have  no  sword."  He  flung  back  the 
Cavalier's  rebuke. 

"  It  is  for  me  to  ask  pardon,"  returned  Ger- 
ard, "  but — my  God !  you  weigh  and  debate. 
What  are  strength  and  manhood  if  you  cannot 
win  your  own  and  hold  it  safe?  Will  she 
yield  ?  In  your  place — "  He  snapped  the 
words  off  sharp,  but  it  was  too  late. 

Standish  had  understood  the  ring  of  the 
other's  voice. 

"You  love  her,  then,"  he  said,  "  and  yet  you 
come  to  me  ? " 

Gerard  gave  a  laugh  which  did  not  ring 
true. 

"  I  have  other  matters  in  hand  than  love- 
making." 

He  pointed  through  the  open  door  to  where 
Bristol  lay  dim,  resistant,  behind  the  shrouding 
rain. 

"We  have  Bristol  to  hold." 
290 


Foes  in  Council 


The  soldier  woke  in  Nathan  Standish. 

"  You  know  that  you  cannot  hold  it,"  he 
returned.  "  The  city  is  plague  stricken  and 
mutinous,  your  walls  are  half  manned  and  we 
are  twelve  thousand  strong." 

Gerard  stared  into  the  rain. 

"And  all  that  were  nothing  on  the  thither 
side  of  Naseby,"  he  muttered. 

He  swung  round  on  Standish. 

"  Say  you  win  then — You  have  won !  '  When 
the  King  comes  to  his  own  again,' "  he  smiled 
bitterly  enough  over  the  familiar  Royalist 
vaunt,  "  it  may  be  late  for  some  of  us.  If  I 
could  free  Mistress  Eileen  to-day,  I  could  not 
safeguard  her  to-morrow.  The  war  has  swal- 
lowed me,  body  and  goods,  as  it  hath  done 
many  another.  I  have  spent  my  last  coin,  and 
coined  my  last  tankard  for  his  Majesty's  ser- 
vice. I  have  earned  me  wounds  and  disable- 
ment, and  Mistress  Eileen  doth  not  love  our 
Cause  well  enough  to  love  the  scars  won  by  it. 
I  have  given  myself  to  the  King ;  there's  noth- 
ing left  to  give  to  a  woman." 

He  broke  off  with  a  mirthless  laugh. 

"  Why  should  I  confess  myself  to  you  ?  If  I 
could  have  freed  her,  '  tis  like  I  should  have 
forgot  my  wisdom.  But  I  cannot  reach  her 
and — "  he  made   a  step   forward   and   caught 

291 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

Standish  by  the  arm — "  and  she  comes  as 
George  Goring's  messenger.  Do  you  think 
what  that  means  for  a  woman  ?  " 

Standish  broke  from  his  grasp  with  a  jubilant 
cry. 

"I  have  the  right  and  as  God  judges  me  I 
will  use  it.  Was  it  not  of  this  that  Roy  warned 
me  dying  ?  " 

He  made  a  swift  stride  to  the  door,  checked 
himself  and  glanced  back  at  Gerard  who  was 
watching  him  with  a  twisted  smile. 

"  The  watchword,"  said  the  Puritan  Captain, 
"  the  watchword  is  '  Freedom '  and  here  is 
your  sword." 

Humphrey  Gerard  reached  a  resolute  hand 
to  the  hilt. 

"  Aye,  while  that  remains — " 


The  Opening  of  the  Way 


xxn 

The  Opening  of  the  IVay 


LEAVING  Humphrey  Gerard  behind  in 
the  shadows,  Standish  came  out  into 
.  the  camp,  moving  with  a  composed 
^  directness  like  a  man  under  orders. 
Before  he  had  gone  three  paces,  he 
encountered  none  other  than  Cornet  Strong, 
who  looked  at  him  with  a  searching  question. 
The  Captain's  face  was  set  in  a  resolved  quiet, 
but,  as  he  met  his  officer's  eyes,  the  thought 
flashed  on  him  that  Strong  must  not  be  on 
hand  to  cross  his  plans, — Strong,  who  knew 
overmuch  of  Eileen  and  Roy  O'Neil.  His  de- 
cision was  quick  to  follow. 

"  Cornet,"  he  called  peremptorily,  "  you  will 
find  in  the  hut  yonder  a  Royalist  gentleman, 
one  of  those  which  came  with  Prince  Rupert's 
message  and  who  hath  strayed  from  his  party. 
He  knows  the  word,  yet  it  may  not  be  easy 
293 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

for  him  to  make  his  way  through  the  camp. 
Escort  him  in  safety  to  Lawford's  Gate,  where 
doubtless  he  can  make  his  entrance." 

Strong  hesitated  a  moment.  How  could  he 
go  and  leave  his  prisoner  not  yet  delivered  to 
Ireton's  judgment  ?  Yet  he  could  neither  ex- 
plain nor  disobey,  and  so  after  that  pulse  beat 
of  indecision,  he  went  in  silence  towards  the 
hut,  little  divining  that  the  pause  of  suspense 
had  been  longer  to  his  Captain  than  himself. 
Standish  drew  a  breath  of  relief  at  his  depart- 
ure, and  then  hastened  on  to  his  next  under- 
taking. 

Every  moment  was  charged  with  Fate,  and 
he  could  not  know  how  much  time  yet  re- 
mained wherein  to  do  his  work,  or  whether  he 
might  not  even  now  be  too  late.  Lieutenant 
Flynt,  who  was  bending  a  dissatisfied  scrutiny 
on  a  rusty  bridle  chain,  looked  up  startled  at 
his  Captain's  quick  accost. 

"In  this  weather,"  he  observed  plaintively, 
"  rust  is  harder  to  be  rid  of  than  original  sin. 
What's  to  do,  Captain?  They  say  that  our 
summons  is  rejected." 

"Flynt,"  said  Nathan  Standish  abruptly, 
"  are  you  willing  to  serve  me  in  a  matter  of 
such  urgence — " 

He  paused  trying  to  master  his  voice  or  to 
294 


The  Opening  of  the  Way 


find  words  pressing  enough.  "  You  know  that 
I  will  very  gladly  serve  you,"  responded  the 
Lieutenant,  "being  that  you  are  one  of  the 
few  which  suffer  me  to  discourse  in  mine  own 
tongue.     What  is  this  so  imperative  matter  ?  " 

"  You  know  the  minister  of  our  regiment  ?  " 
demanded  Standish  quickly.  "Do  you  know 
him  well  enough  to  move  him  to  a  sudden  and 
secret  act,  yet  one  in  the  nature  of  his  call- 
ing?" 

"  Let  me  be  clear,"  said  Flynt,  with  evident 
interest.  "  Our  worthy  preacher  will  do  much 
for  one  whom  he  is  plucking  as  a  brand  from 
the  burning.  Is  he  to  marry  or  bury  ?  The 
latter  I  do  trust,  being  I  hold  the  first  as  the 
foolishest  act  a  wise  man  may  commit." 

Standish  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  the  other's 
shoulder. 

"  Here  is  no  season  for  jesting,"  he  said  in  a 
fierce  undertone.  "  What  I  ask  concerns  life 
and  death — aye,  and  the  losing  and  saving  of 
souls.  Tell  your  friend,  our  Chaplain,  that. 
Bid  him  presently  hither  that  he  may  wed  the 
man  and  woman  he  shall  find,  and  swear  him 
to  silence  till  leave  for  speech  be  given.  If 
you  can  do  this,  there  is  nothing  you  may  ask 
of  me  in  vain." 

295 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

Flynt  fingered  the  forgotten  bridle  medita- 
tively. 

"Now  here  would  be  the  convenience  of 
Papistry,"  he  remarked.  "The  Mass-priests 
understand  the  virtue  of  silence.  Yet  I  will 
endeavour — I  go  blindfold,"  he  added  resign- 
edly. 

Standish  saw  the  needful  answer  and  gave 
it,  not  without  a  wrench  of  the  will. 

"  When  time  serves  and  you  ask  it  of  me,  I 
will  lay  the  truth  bare  to  you." 

Flynt's  face  gleamed  with  satisfaction,  but 
his  reply  bordered  on  the  heroic. 

"  Peradventure  I  shall  not  ask  it.  Whither 
shall  I  bring  my  captive  divine  ? "  he  added 
with  an  afterthought. 

"  Await  me  here  with  him,"  returned  Stand- 
ish. 

As  he  spoke  he  realized  with  a  shock,  that 
he  had  not  yet  discovered  Eileen's  place  of  im- 
prisonment. And  how  in  this  intricate  and 
tumultuous  world  of  a  camp  could  he  be  assured 
of  reaching  her  in  time  ?  As  he  pondered  this 
question,  Flynt  rose  to  his  feet  and  shook  his 
cloak  about  him. 

"It  may  concern  your  soldiership,"  he  re- 
marked indifferently,  "  to  know  that  a  spy — a 
woman — hath  been  newly  captured  and  is  in 

296 


The  Opening  of  the  Way 


durance  some  few  paces  hence.  But  since  time 
presses  on  you — " 

Standish  turned  on  his  companion  a  look  of 
desperate  confession  and  command,  but  meet- 
ing Flynt's  equivocal  gaze  he  answered  only, 

"  Lead  on." 

At  the  door  of  Eileen's  prison  Standish 
turned  to  his  companion. 

"  Seek  me  here  when  that  which  you  know 
of  is  done." 

Flynt  hastened  away  and  after  a  brief  parley 
with  the  soldier  on  guard,  the  Captain  entered 
the  low  hut.  Day  was  declining,  and,  outside, 
the  massive  vault  of  cloud  was  dully  kindled 
as  by  the  glow  of  an  unseen  fire.  Within  it 
was  dusk,  and  at  first  sight  Standish,  with  a 
nameless  leap  and  sinking  of  the  heart,  thought 
that  the  place  was  empty  and  the  captive  fled. 
But  as  the  dimness  closed  about  him,  he  be- 
came aware  of  the  girl's  figure  crouched  in  a 
corner,  her  head  bowed  on  her  knees  in  an  at- 
titude of  abandonment.  She  did  not  stir  at  his 
entrance  and  he  stood  motionless,  wasting  the 
moments  which  were  dear  as  blood  drops.  The 
surrounding  scene  grew  on  him  as  he  gazed ; 
the  rough  camp  beds,  the  piled  accoutrements, 
for  the  place  had  served  as  quarters  to  several 
soldiers  before  put  to  its  present  use.      And 

297 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

still  Eileen  did  not  stir,  though  now  she  was 
murmuring  half  aloud  words  in  an  alien  tongue 
with  the  note  of  a  dirge  in  them. 

"  Eileen,"  cried  Nathan  Standish  in  a  stran- 
gled whisper. 

At  sound  of  his  voice  she  started  and  rose  to 
her  feet,  the  sullen  light  from  without  showing 
her  face  wanly  against  her  loosened  hair.  She 
gazed  mutely  at  him,  and  then  with  a  strange 
little  touch  of  womanly  composure  she  gathered 
up  and  knotted  the  long,  dark  locks.  Having 
so  prepared  herself  she  stepped  forward. 

"  I  am  ready,"  she  said. 

The  words  fell  with  so  strange  a  significance 
on  Standish  that  he  cried  out, 

"  Ready — for  what  ?  "  And  then  understand- 
ing her  meaning,  "  Surely  you  know  yourself 
safe  with  me  ?  " 

"  As  was  my  brother,"  answered  Eileen.  "  I 
deserve  no  less  than  he." 

The  answer  struck  Standish  numb  with  hope- 
lessness. He  stood  silenced,  while  the  slight 
figure  not  two  paces  from  him  in  that  red  dusk 
took  on  the  aspect  of  something  remote,  un- 
assailable. It  was  not  a  lonely  and  tremulous 
girl  which  confronted  him,  but  creed  and  cause 
and  race,  opposing,  irreconcilable.  Yet  he 
would  not  fail  through  any  faltering  of  his  own. 

298 


The  Opening  of  the  JVay 


"  Then  you  knew  the  peril,"  he  said.  "  You 
know  to  escape  you  must  take  desperate 
means." 

"I  do  not  look  for  escape,"  she  answered 
with  a  little  catch  in  her  breath.  "  Yes,  I  knew 
the  peril." 

"And  had  you  naught  to  hold  you  back? 
Your  mother  ?  " 

Eileen  lifted  her  head. 

"  My  mother  loved  Roy.  He  was  her  first- 
born, her  pride.  She  would  have  bidden  me 
serve  him.  I  told  her,"  she  added  more  brok- 
enly, "  I  told  her  that  I  was  coming  to  seek  my 
brother;  and  I  shall  seek  and  find  him." 

She  turned  from  Standish  as  though  in  a  last 
dismissal,  and  moved  by  some  mocking  memory 
began  to  sing  softly  to  herself, 

"At  the  fording,  at  the  fording  of  the  River, 
Where  the  Ford  runs  red." 

The  defiance  overshot  the  mark,  for  the  low 
voice  and  the  old  days  which  it  recalled,  stabbed 
the  Puritan  Captain  into  strength.  He  took 
one  step  forward,  looking  down  on  Eileen  with 
steady,  steel-grey  eyes. 

"You  speak  of  Roy,"  he  began,  "and  it  is 
by  his  wish  and  warrant  I  am  here.  He  be- 
queathed me  the  right  to  shield  you,  and  I  will 
use  that  right.     Listen." 

299 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

She  lifted  amazed,  protesting  eyes,  but  she 
obeyed  him  and  did  not  speak. 

"  You  are  in  danger  here,"  he  went  on,  "  in 
danger  of  more  than  death.  And  I  can  find 
but  one  way  of  escape.  It  will  be  hard  for 
you." 

His  voice  softened  but  he  beat  down  the 
dangerous  tenderness.  "  You  must  give  me 
the  right  to  tell  my  Colonel  to-morrow  that  you 
are  here  for  me — that  you  are  my  wife." 

Do  what  he  would,  his  voice  shook  on  the 
last  word  and  Eileen  snatched  her  eyes  from 
his. 

"  And  you  hold  that  of  me,"  she  cried.  "  I 
shall  save  myself  with  your  name,  when  fire  is 
the  blood  in  my  veins  against  you  and  your 
cause.  I — have  you  forgot  what  name  I  bear  ? 
Can  I  not  wed  death  with  mine  own  hand  be- 
fore I  give  me  to  dishonour  ?  " 

She  caught  up  her  words  like  weapons, 
grasping  at  her  anger,  and  Standish's  face  grew 
set. 

"  Dishonour,"  he  repeated  in  a  voice  that 
was  stirred  beneath  its  quiet,  "  is  it  well  said  ?  " 

He  stared  into  the  quivering,  resistant  face, 
and  knowing  what  she  braved  by  that  resist- 
ance, he  was  shaken  by  a  rage  of  angry  yearn- 
ing. 

300 


The  Opening  of  the  IVay 


"  It  is  well  for  you,"  he  cried,  "  to  taunt  and 
defy  me,  knowing  you  have  but  to  die  as  your 
brother  died  and  take  my  soul  with  you,  and 
leave  me  to  curse  the  sword  I  carry — aye,  and 
shall  still  use." 

"  We  have  failed,  why  should  we  not  die  ?  " 
said  Eileen,  driven  unwittingly  to  defence,  in- 
stead of  accusing. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  repeated  Standish  harshly, 
"  It  is  easy  to  fail  and  die  and  be  remembered 
and  revenged.  We  that  conquer — My  God!" 
cried  the  Puritan  soldier,  "  It  is  we  which  taste 
the  bitterness  of  death." 

He  turned  and  strode  to  the  door.  Close  to 
the  threshold  he  paused  and  spoke  in  a  low 
tone,  not  looking  back. 

"  There  is  one  last  chance.  I  think  that  I 
shall  fail,  yet  I  will  endeavour  it.  When  I  re- 
turn to  you  it  will  be  with  a  feigned  pass  with 
which  you  must  seek  to  quit  the  Camp. 
Whether  I  succeed  or  fail,  you  will  at  least 
know  me  dishonoured." 

He  would  have  passed  out  but  for  Eileen's 
sharp,  withholding  cry.  She  was  close  at  his 
side,  a  shadowy  figure,  for  now  he  could  not 
see  her  face. 

"  Dishonour,  but  that  cannot  touch  you," 
said  Eileen. 

301 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 


Standish  half  turned. 

"  There  is  but  one  other  way." 

"  That  other  way — you  said  it  was  to  save 
me — you  did  not  say  you  wished  it,"  faltered 
the  voice  from  the  dimness. 

And  with  that  there  was  neither  question  nor 
answer.  But  the  Puritan's  arms  had  closed 
round  his  captive,  and  both  knew  that  they 
must  find  their  way  together. 

Outside  came  the  sound  of  footsteps  and  the 
challenge  of  the  guard. 

"I  bring  with  me  the  consolations  of  reli- 
gion," said  the  voice  of  Lieutenant  Flynt. 

Standish  started  erect,  releasing  Eileen  with 
a  last,  whispered  word.  A  red,  uncertain  light 
flashed  in  on  them  as  Flynt  stepped  across  the 
threshold,  carrying  a  torch  which  threw  into 
strange  relief  his  Puritanical  angles  and  austeri- 
ties. Close  behind  him  came  another  man,  but 
not  the  grave  and  godly  personage  the  Captain 
had  awaited. 

"  What  is  this,  Lieutenant  ?  "  asked  Standish 
as  he  recognized  in  Flynt' s  companion  one  of 
his  own  troop.  "  Whom  do  you  bring  me 
here?" 

"The  matter  stands  thus,  Captain,"  re- 
turned the  other,  nowise  abashed.  "  When  I 
approached  our  worthy  Chaplain  I  found  him 

302 


The  Opening  of  the  Way 


over  full  of  question  and  reservation  to  be  serv- 
iceable in  the  matter  in  hand.  Wherefore  I 
have  brought  you  a  most  efficient  substitute." 

Standish' s  brows  furrowed  deeply. 

"  I  am  no  ranter,"  he  said  sharply,  "  to  seek 
such  service  at  the  hands  of  any  self-ordained 
prophet  among  my  men.  Who  shall  warrant 
me—?" 

"  That  will  I,  Captain." 

The  trooper  stepped  forward  till  the  light  of 
Flynt's  torch  struck  on  a  wan,  high  face,  with 
burning  eyes.  Standish  looked  searchingly  at 
the  speaker. 

"  You  enlisted  just  before  Naseby,"  he  said, 
"  and  your  name  is  Richard  Hawes.  By  what 
authority  do  you  claim  this  office  ?  " 

"  I  was  ordained  priest  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land," answered  Hawes,  "  and  when,  because  of 
the  many  corruptions  and  injustices  which  did 
riot  therein,  I  set  myself  among  those  which 
warred  even  to  the  death  for  reformation,  I 
did  not  dishonour  my  sacred  calling.  I  have 
still  the  right  to  seek  God's  blessing  for  such  a 
work  as  this." 

"  And  you  will  keep  silence  concerning  this 
which  you  do  ? "  demanded  Standish. 

u  I  will  keep  silence  until  speech  be  called 
for  to  right  a  wrong,"  answered  Hawes. 

303 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  ton's  Horse 

Standish  looked  at  him  steadily  and  read 
truth  in  the  enthusiast's  eyes. 

"  So  be  it,"  he  said. 

"  Eileen,  thou  wilt  trust  me  ?  " 

He  knew  that  to  her  a  priest  of  her  Church 
was  needful  to  true  marriage,  and  he  feared 
some  last,  perilous  rebellion. 

But  for  all  answer  she  silently  laid  her  hand 
in  his.  He  drew  her  forward  and  so  they  stood, 
Puritan  and  Papist,  before  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land divine  in  his  corselet  and  spurred  horse- 
man's boots,  while  the  red  torch  light  blurred 
and  flickered  on  the  bare  walls  and  soldier  trap- 
pings. 

And  when  the  brief  rite  was  ended,  Richard 
Hawes  bent  his  fervent  gaze  on  the  two  which 
he  had  made  one. 

"  For  this  shall  be  a  token,"  he  said  with  a 
strange  and  sudden  exaltation.  "  Think  not 
that  I  had  lightly  undertaken  to  act  thus  in 
darkness  and  in  secrecy,  but  that  I  knew  by 
this  union  a  sign  was  given  unto  us.  For  so 
shall  the  blinded  and  misguided  people  seeking 
after  idols  of  priestcraft  and  kingcraft — so 
shall  they  be  subjected  and  enlightened  by  the 
conquering  truth  we  strive  for,  even  as  this 
maiden  has  been  brought  out  of  darkness  to 
the  guidance  of  a  soldier  of  God.     Even  so  be 

304 


AND    SO    THEY    STOOD    BEFORE    THE    CHURCH    OF    ENGLAND    DIVINE 
IN    HIS   CORSELET   AND   SPURRED    HORSEMAN'S    BOOTS." 


The  Opening  of  the  Way 


it,  and  may  His  truth  and  righteousness  pre- 
vail ! " 

Eileen  shrank  under  the  ominous  benediction, 
but  into  Standish's  eyes  leaped  for  an  instant 
the  sense  of  his  Army's  conquering  call. 

Lieutenant  Flynt  had  thrust  the  torch  into  a 
ring  and  was  writing  busily  on  the  fly  leaf  of 
his  beloved  book.     Now  he  looked  up. 

"  As  we  are  all  soldiers,  dealing  much  in 
battle,  murder  and  sudden  death,  it  were  best 
to  secure  this  brief  record  of  the  matter."  He 
detached  the  leaf  with  a  profound  sigh. 
"  Never  could  I  have  deemed,"  he  added  rue- 
fully, "  that  the  philosophic  Sir  Thomas  could 
bear  his  witness  for  marriage  !  "  He  touched 
Hawes  lightly  on  the  shoulder.  "  Come,"  he 
said,  "  our  part  is  performed.  Time  it  is  for 
Reason  and  Religion  to  withdraw  when  that 
Love  enters  in." 
T 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 


xxin 

The  Barring  of  the  IVay 

THERE  was  brief  space,  however,  for 
any  words  of  love  between  the  two 
left  together.     Eileen  was  standing 
like  one  wrapped  in  dreams.     And 
when  Standish   came   again    to  her 
side,   he    only   took    her  hand.     He  had   not 
saved  her  yet,  he  had  no  right  to  claim  her 
lips. 

"  Keep  heart,"  he  said,  "  all  will  be  well,  and 
all  shall  be  well."  And  with  that  resolve  he 
left  her. 

Outside  the  hut  the  gloaming  still  lingered. 
The  Captain  glanced  up  at  the  stormy  sky  and 
reckoned  the  time  which  remained  to  him. 
More  than  an  hour  yet  before  the  drums  would 
beat  "  tap  too  "  ;  by  that  time  he  must  have  ac- 
complished his  task.  While  he  stood  there  a 
rider  drew  up  some  few  paces  away  and  dis- 

306 


The  Barring  of  the  Way 


mounted  flinging  his  reins  to  a  soldier.  Even 
in  that  uncertain  light  Standish  recognized  the 
tall  figure  and  imperious  carriage  of  Colonel 
Ire  ton.  He  had  come,  doubtless,  to  look  into 
the  question  of  the  prisoner  and  perhaps  order 
her  removal.  The  Captain  knew  that  his  own 
time  for  action  had  come,  and  he  advanced  to 
the  attack,  but  with  a  heart  grown  sick  with 
apprehension. 

"Sir,"  he  began,  "I  was  even  now  upon  my 
way  to  seek  you  to  ask  redress  in  a  matter 
nearly  concerning  me." 

Speaking,  he  thanked  Heaven  inwardly  that 
his  voice  was  firm,  and  was  not  aware  of  the 
unnatural  tension  in  the  level  tones.  Ireton 
glanced  at  him  attentively,  bidding  him  speak 
on. 

Standish  continued  with  a  desperate  quietude, 
choosing  his  words  that  they  might  be  literal 
truth,  and  feeling  that  he  disgraced  himself  as 
much  as  by  any  outspoken  lie. 

"  There  is  a  prisoner  seized  as  being  unau- 
thorized here  in  the  camp,  and  a  stranger. 
Sir,"  Nathan  Standish  lifted  his  head  and  his 
eyes  sought  his  officer's  through  the  gloom, 
"  Sir,  it  is  my  wife,  and  I  have  yet  to  learn  by 
what  right  or  reason  she  should  be.  held  from 
me." 

307 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

There  was  a  pause  of  completest  silence. 
Whatever  surprise  Ireton  may  have  felt,  he 
gave  no  sign  of  it  in  words,  but  asked  at  length 
in  a  matter-of-fact  tone  : 

"  Why  did  she  not  say  as  much,  and  demand 
to  be  brought  to  you  ?  " 

Standish  was  not  unprepared  for  the  ques- 
tion. "  She  was  suddenly  and  roughly  fallen 
upon,"  he  answered,  "  and  given  scant  chance 
to  declare  herself.  Moreover," — he  could 
venture  to  let  his  voice  falter  there — "  there 
had  been  bitterness  between  us." 

"  Ah  !  "  Ireton's  tone  was  quietly  interested 
and  he  began  to  walk  on  slowly  till  he  came  to 
where  a  lanthorn  was  swinging  before  one  of  the 
guardhouses.  Here  he  paused,  a  tall,  cloaked 
figure  dark  against  the  flickering  gleam  which 
struck  full  upon  the  Captain's  face. 

"There  had  been  bitterness  between  you," 
repeated  Henry  Ireton  judicially. 

Standish  felt  his  plans  crumble  in  his  grasp 
like  ropes  of  sand.  He  was  ill  fitted  to  act  a 
part  and  he  knew  it.  With  a  desperate  im- 
pulse he  risked  everything  on  an  outburst 
which  should  give  the  ring  of  truth  to  his  un- 
spoken lie. 

"Bitterness,"  he  cried,  "God  knoweth  there 
was  cause  therefor.     Sir,  my  wife  is  not  of  my 

308 


The  Barring  of  the  Way 


race  or  party.  She  is  the  sister  of  that  Roy 
O'Neil  who  died  by  my  order  on  the  morrow 
of  Naseby.  Bitterness — there  hath  been  dis- 
union well  nigh  unto  death  between  us — and 
yet-" 

"  Yet  she  seeks  you  now  ?  "  asked  Ireton. 

"She  loves  me  now,"  answered  Nathan 
Standish. 

He  had  almost  forgotten  the  deadly  need  in 
the  sudden  sweetness  of  the  words.  But  he 
felt  his  Colonel's  gaze  scanning,  weighing  him. 
And  he  drew  himself  together  for  his  work.' 

"She  is  here  but  to  bid  me  farewell,"  he 
said,  "  desiring  to  return  unto  her  mother,  who 
is  lying  grievously  sick.  And  now  this  falls 
upon  her." 

"  Was  your  wife  within  the  town  ? "  asked 
Ireton  sternly. 

"  Most  assuredly  not." 

Here  at  least  was  a  question  to  be  frankly 
answered,  and  in  giving  that  answer  Standish 
did  not  realise  how  his  look  lightened  with  re- 
lief. "She  came  from  without  our  camp 
whither  I  desire  that  she  shall  have  leave  to 
return." 

"  And  you  are  prepared,"  Ireton's  voice 
came  with  an  incisive  clearness,  "  you  are  pre- 
pared to  give  your  warranty  on  your  faith  as  a 

309  ' 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

soldier  that  she  hath  endeavoured  nothing 
against  us  ?  " 

"  I  give  my  warranty,"  Standish  took  up  the 
word  unfalteringly,  "  that  she  endeavour  noth- 
ing against  us." 

The  change  in  the  affirmation  was  so  slight, 
so  guilty.  As  he  spoke  Standish  felt  the  stab- 
bing keenness  of  Ireton's  glance. 

"  Your  wife,"  said  the  Puritan  leader 
thoughtfully,  "  when  ?  "  he  paused  intolerably 
on  the  word.  Standish  in  that  interminable 
second  faced  his  own  undoing  or  his  own  dis- 
honour. And  the  dark  eyes  from  the  shadow 
were  bent  mercilessly  on  his  undefended  face. 
"  When,"  concluded  Ireton  deliberately,  "  did 
you  last  meet — the  lady  ?" 

Standish  felt  the  ground  reel  under  him  with 
the  shock  of  his  reprieve. 

"At  Donnington,"  he  answered  hoarsely, 
"when  I  took  her  the  word  of  her  brother's 
death." 

Ireton's  face  relaxed  into  such  gentleness 
that  it  grew  dim  to  Standish's  eyes. 

"  You  have  been  much  tested,  Captain,"  he 
said,  "  it  were  ill  done  to  repeat  such  test  need- 
lessly." He  laid  grave  stress  on  the  word. 
"  Since  the  lady  is  your  wife,  you  may  be  right- 

310 


The  Barring  of  the  Way 


fully  answerable    for   her.     I   will   even  now 
give  order  for  her  release." 

The  certainty  of  deliverance  smote  on  Stand- 
ish  like  a  blow,  and  he  could  not  clear  his 
thought  or  control  his  voice  for  any  words  of 
thanks;  those  inadequate  words  which  were 
all  he  must  dare  to  utter.  It  was  out  of  a 
throbbing  mist  that  he  found  himself  at  last  at 
Eileen's  side  and  knew  that  she  was  free  to  de- 
part, that  he  was  free  to  claim  the  happiness 
which  till  that  moment  he  had  scarce  dared  to 
look  on. 

He  turned  to  Eileen  where  they  stood  to- 
gether in  the  low  doorway  of  what  was  no 
more  her  prison.  Neither  spoke  ;  and  stretch- 
ing out  both  hands,  Standish  drew  the  girl  to 
him  with  a  wordless  sob  of  joy.  She  yielded 
herself  to  his  grasp,  yielded  her  lips  to  his,  but 
the  man  at  her  side  was  fiercely  aware  of  a  silent 
withholding. 

"  Eileen,"  he  cried  with  a  sharp,  remonstrant 
note. 

"  Oh,"  she  wailed  for  answer,  "  you  have 
saved  me  I  know,  and  I — I  have  betrayed  my 
race  and  my  name  and  the  memory  of  my 
dead.     Are  you  not  our  foe  ?  " 

Standish  caught  his  breath  under  the  un- 
looked  for  thrust. 

311 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

"  I  am  your  husband,"  he  answered  grimly. 

Eileen  shrank  away  covering  her  face, 

"  I  know,"  she  sobbed,  "  it  is  all  so  amiss — 
how  can  it  dare — " 

Her  voice  trailed  away  and  the  Captain  laid 
a  constraining  hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"  How  can  it  dare— what  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Dare  to  be  sweet  ?  "  cried  Eileen  Standish. 

"  Then  it  is  sweet  ?  "  Being  but  a  man,  Stand- 
ish could  not  forbear  the  question,  but  he  did 
not  await  the  answer  before  taking  his  wife  in 
his  arms. 

They  passed  out  together  into  the  mur- 
murous, unsleeping  camp.  Eileen  felt  its  mani- 
fold enmity  closing  about  her  and  she  drew 
nearer  to  Standish  with  a  little,  trustful  move- 
ment which  stirred  him  strangely.  Yet  he  did 
not  speak  and  it  was  Eileen  who  faltered  at 
last. 

"  Forgive  me.  Oh — it  is  Roy  should  thank 
you."  She  glanced  away  towards  the  walls 
of  Bristol  and  gave  a  slight,  quivering  sigh. 

"  I  shall  never  carry  the  message  now,"  she 
mused,  "  yet  I  sought  to  serve  him." 

"  Eileen,"  said  Nathan  Standish  very  gravely 
and  speaking  in  a  guarded  undertone,  *  I 
pledged  my  faith  that  you — that  my  wife — 

312 


The  Barring  of  the  Way 


being  freed  should  endeavour  nothing  against 
us.     I  laid  mine  honour  in  your  hands." 

"  It  shall  be  safe,"  she  answered  with  a  sud- 
den note  of  gladness,  of  pride. 

"Safe,"  the  word  had  scarcely  died  away 
when  a  figure  detached  itself  from  the  gloom 
and  stood  confronting  them,  barring  their  way. 

"  Let  me  pass,"  said  Captain  Standish  with 
authority.  And  as  his  voice  rang  out  the 
soldier  before  him  groaned  aloud. 

"  It  is  even  as  I  feared,"  said  Cornet  Strong, 
"  and  the  anger  of  God  hath  not  turned  back 
from  me." 

The  silence  that  followed  pressed  on  them 
with  a  mortal  weight.  Eileen  had  drawn  back 
a  pace,  leaving  the  two  Puritans  facing  one  an- 
other. Nathan  Standish  was  chilled  by  an 
ominous  dread,  a  dim  sense  that  his  two  com- 
panions were  ranged  in  a  more  than  momentary 
opposition,  in  a  profound  and  obscure  antago- 
nism, which  he  himself,  standing  midway  be- 
tween them,  felt  but  could  not  grasp. 

*  Let  me  pass,  Cornet,"  he  repeated  sharply, 
and  missed  the  ring  of  certainty  in  his  own 
voice.  His  rights  as  Captain,  as  superior, 
were  set  aside,  and  Strong  spoke  to  him  with  a 
deeper  and  more  valid  authority.    . 

"  Ye  may  not  pass,"  said  the  Cornet  slowly. 
313 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

"Harm  enough  and  woe  enough  have  been 
wrought  by  the  race  of  that  woman  at  thy  side. 
Thou  shalt  not  set  her  free  to  weave  her  snares 
for  the  people  of  God." 

"And  I  tell  you,"  answered  Standish,  "  that 
I  am  even  now  on  my  way  to  free  her  with  full- 
est right  and  warranty.  See  you  to  it,  Cornet 
Strong,  that  you  put  me  not  to  extremity  in 
carrying  out  my  will." 

"Thy  will,"  Strong  laughed  aloud  in  harsh 
and  agonized  derision.  "  I  tell  thee,  boy,  it  is 
God's  will  which  is  against  it,  and  I,  even  I  am 
His  instrument.  It  is  not  written  that  thou 
shalt  do  this  thing.  Verily  the  stars  in  their 
courses  shall  fight  against  it — even  as  they 
fought  against  him  which  was  smitten  by  the 
hand  of  a  woman." 

"This  is  merest  fanatical  madness,"  cried 
Standish.  "  What,  Cornet,  have  we  been  broth- 
ers-in-arms  so  long  and  have  you  not  learned —  " 

"  That  all  must  be  forgotten  and  cast  aside 
for  a  lure  like  this  ?  "  broke  in  Strong. 

His  voice  changed  from  anger  to  a  pleading 
as  fiery.  "I  do  conjure  thee  not  to  do  this 
thing,  not  to  set  me  at  naught,  as  thou  wouldst 
live  honoured  and  die  in  the  fullness  of  years 
with  the  blessing  of  God.  Wouldst  thou  have 
me  kneel  before  thee,  shaming  me  and  thyself 

314 


The  Barring  of  the  Way 


and  calling  down  God's  curse  upon  thee  for  a 
sin  thou  knowest  not  of  ?  " 

Bewildered  and  incensed,  Standish  took  a 
stride  forward  putting  his  fellow-officer  roughly 
aside.  Strong  made  no  movement  to  avoid  or 
resent  the  grip.  For  the  space  of  a  long  drawn 
breath  he  stood  mute  and  stark.  Then  with 
an  exceeding  bitter  cry  he  flung  up  his  arms 
towards  the  brooding  heavens. 

"  Thy  Will,  0  God,  Thy  judgment ! " 

Even  as  he  spoke  Eileen  sent  out  her  voice 
in  warning  and  terror.  Standish  swerved  and 
caught  at  his  hilt  too  late.  Grasping  his  own 
sword  by  the  blade  Strong  dealt  Nathan  Stand- 
ish a  single  blow.  It  struck  just  beneath  the 
steel  rim  of  his  headpiece,  and  with  one  chok- 
ing cry  the  Captain  dropped  forward  and  lay 
moveless  at  the  feet  of  Cornet  Strong. 

Eileen  sank  beside  him  in  a  storm  of  helpless 
grief. 

"I  had  never  said  how  I  loved  him,"  she 
wailed. 

But  the  Puritan  soldier  uttered  neither  word 
nor  moan  and  stood  looking  dry-eyed  on  his 
work. 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 


XXIV 

A  Woman  s  Witness 


FROM  a  dream  of  flowing  waters  and 
far    singing,   Standish    woke    to   see 
bending    over  him    Roy's   reconciled 
face.     Then  as  his  sight  and  senses 
cleared  he  knew  it  was  Eileen,  pale  in 
a  glimmer  of  dawn.     As  their  eyes  met  she 
dropped  her  head  on  his  breast  with  a  sobbing 
breath,  like  a  child  outwearied  and  content. 

"You   have    come    back,    dear    love,"   she 
whispered. 

Standish  lifted  a  hand  which  felt  strangely 
heavy  and  drew  her  closer,  closer  yet.  He 
had  no  care  for  the  blurred  past  or  the  beckon- 
ing future.  The  moment  was  enough. 
"  You  are  mine  then,"  he  said. 
"I  am  all  yours,"  she  answered,  "there  are 
no  bitter  waters  flowing  between  us  any  more. 
I  crossed    them  while    I  thought — Oh,   Dear 

316 


A  Woman  s  Witness 


Heart,  let  us  go  away,  away  from  all  the  strife 
and  the  cruel  partings  and  meetings.  Let  us 
come  away  together." 

"Sailing  into  the  sunset  with  Raleigh," 
smiled  Standish,  letting  himself  drift  to  a  pass- 
ing vision  of  wide,  new  lands,  where  they 
might  lay  their  foundations  in  peace. 

Sharp  upon  the  fugitive  thought  broke  the 
shattering  call  of  the  trumpets  and  the  hurried 
sound  of  marching. 

"They  muster  for  the  parade,"  cried  the 
soldier,  starting  up  only  to  sink  back  with  a 
reeling  brain.  He  put  his  hand  to  his  head 
with  a  bewildered  frown. 

"  Ah,  I  remember." 

The  brief  truce  of  forgetfulness  was  ended, 
and  all  the  armed  and  implacable  present 
fronted  him  again. 

"  You  are  safe,  Eileen.  But  what  of  Strong  ? 
Did  he  not  strike  at  me  ?  " 

"  Struck  you  down,"  she  answered,  her 
delicate  face  hardening  and  her  eyes  gleaming 
like  blue  steel,  "  and  then  some  soldiers  came 
and  he  bade  them  bear  you  away  and  keep  me 
in  safe  ward,  and  I  have  been  with  you  all  the 
night." 

"  Child,  how  wearied  thou  must  be,"  cried 
Standish. 

317 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

He  sat  up  cautiously,  because  of  his  throb- 
bing forehead,  and  looked  about  him. 

"  When  didst  thou  eat  last  ?  "  he  demanded 
practically. 

"  They  brought  me  food  but  I  could  not  eat 
it,"  answered  Eileen.  "  We  will  break  bread 
together.  Nay,  in  truth  and  in  truth,  I  will 
tell  you  nothing  more  till  you  have  done  my 
will.  You  shall  let  me  serve  you,  and  you  will 
forget  until  we  have  done." 

She  concluded  as  with  a  wholly  reasonable 
request,  and  indeed  Standish  almost  succeeded 
in  forgetting  everything  but  Eileen's  nearness 
in  this  sweet,  impossible  familiarity.  The  food 
and  wine  gave  him  strength  for  decided  thought 
and  he  laid  his  hand  on  Eileen's  shoulder  as 
she  knelt  beside  the  couch. 

"  Did  Strong  escape  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Tell  me 
all  now,  Dear  Heart." 

"  No,"  answered  Eileen  reluctantly,  "  he 
went  forthwith  to  give  himself  up.  I  heard 
the  soldiers  talking." 

Standish  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  cry. 

"  My  God !  that  is  to  death." 

Eileen  looked  up  at  him  with  a  white  face 
and  widening  eyes. 

"It  is  deserved  —  I  should  be  glad,"  she 
whispered,    "only — only" — She  brought  her 

318 


A  IVotnaris  Witness 


clasped  hands  to  her  breast,  "  Oh,  it  must  not 
be." 

"  Day  broadens,"  said  Standish  with  a  groan, 
"and  six  and  thirty  hours  will  be  the  utter- 
most grace  allowed.  To  strike  down  his  officer. 
How  will  any  plea  of  mine  save  him  ?  Eileen, 
Eileen,  thou  art  terribly  avenged." 

Eileen  looked  at  him  mutinously.  "  Women 
must  bear  their  part  of  all  the  suffering,"  she 
cried.    "  Have  I  not  suffered  ?     Why  then — " 

"Why  shouldst  thou  not  be  avenged?" 
Standish  took  up  the  broken  sentence.  "  I  do 
not  blame  thee,  child — but  for  me — for  me. 
He  was  my  comrade,  look  you,  my  brother-in- 
arms. We  have  slept  by  the  same  fire  and 
shared  food  and  drink  when  they  were  at  their 
scantiest.  We  have  marched  together,  prayed 
together.  I  owed  him  my  life  in  battle  and 
mine  escape  from  captivity.  And  he  loved 
me,"  affirmed  Nathan  Standish.  "  When  I  was 
sick  and  in  prison,  his  hand  was  as  gentle  as 
thine  could  be.  And  now  he  dies  through  me. 
Have  I  not  enough  of  friends'  blood  on  my 
soul  already  ?  " 

Eileen  was  standing  motionless  with  clasped 
hands,  her  face  quivering  and  changing  as 
Standish  stormed  out  his  grief.     With  the  last 

319 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

words  he  took  a  stride  to  the  door  and  she 
sprang  to  his  side  and  stayed  him. 

"  You,  you  must  not  go  forth,  and  what  would 
it  avail?" 

"It  will  nothing  avail,"  he  answered  som- 
brely, "but  I  shall  go  mad  else." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  thought  flashed  across 
him  that  Strong's  only  possible  defence  would 
lie  in  the  confession  that  Eileen's  presence  in 
the  camp  had  been,  in  truth,  on  a  Royalist  mis- 
sion. And  that  confession  would  mean — Stand- 
ish's  very  soul  flinched  under  this  two-edged 
peril.  Eileen  misread  the  sudden  change  in 
his  face,  blanched  and  sunken  as  under  the 
stress  of  bodily  torture.  She  drew  his  hand 
gently  across  her  shoulder  and  led  him  to  the 
couch,  while  he  submitted  to  her  guidance  like 
a  man  struck  blind.  For  a  brief  space  he  stared 
helplessly  into  the  searing  ordeal  which  faced 
him. 

"  I  cannot  do  this  thing,"  he  broke  out  at 
last,  "yet  how  can  I  go  forth  to  plead  for 
him,  knowing  that  I  withhold  the  full  truth 
and  will  withhold  it." 

His  voice  rang  out  fiercely  with  a  challenge, 
a  denial,  and  he  held  his  wife  to  him  as  though 
severance  snatched  visibly  at  her.     Eileen  put 

320 


A  Woman  s  Witness 


both  her  hands  on  his  breast  and  looked  up  at 
him. 

"  Will  you  wait  and  trust  me  from  you  for 
an  hour  ?  It  is  my  turn  to  bring  help,"  she 
smiled  tremulously. 

"No,"  flashed  Standish,  "you  shall  not  im- 
peril yourself." 

"But  I  do  not,"  protested  Eileen,  "in  very 
truth  I  will  not." 

"And  are  }*ou  free  to  go?"  asked  the  Cap- 
tain with  a  sudden  weariness  of  uncertainty 
upon  him. 

"  Yes,"  answered  she,  "  the  soldiers  would 
have  kept  me  prisoner,  nor  did  I  care  so  that  I 
might  be  with  you.  But  later  came  an  officer, 
stood  over  and  looked  at  you,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  your  heart  to  know  if  you  still  lived. 
For  oh  !  you  lay  so  white  and  still,"  she  gasped. 
"Then  he  turned  and  scanned  me,  and  said 
very  briefly  '  Mistress  Standish ' "  and  Eileen 
flushed  brightly,  " '  your  husband  vouched  for 
your  faith  towards  us,'  and  he  left  me  not 
awaiting  an  answer." 

"That  was  Ireton,"  cried  Standish  with  a 
kindling  face  ;  "  tall  and  dark,  Eileen  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  with  eyes — eyes  which  saw." 

She  slipped  from  his  grasp. 

"  Wish  me  Godspeed,  my — husband." 
u  321 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

At  the  door  she  paused,  looking  back.  "  In 
whose  hand  will  rest  your  soldier's  fate  ?  " 

Standish  had  sunk  on  the  pallet,  content  for 
an  instant  to  play  the  coward  and  escape  from 
thought  of  that  decision  with  which  he  must 
soon  grapple.  At  her  voice  he  opened  his 
eyes  with  a  frown  of  pain. 

"  The  last  appeal  would  be  to  Fairfax,  the 
Lord  General;  but  Cromwell,  Strong  hath 
served  Cromwell  and  his  will  is  paramount 
with  the  General.  But  what  is  it  that  you 
plan,  Eileen  ?     Here  is  no  woman's  work." 

Eileen  smiled  an  enigmatic  little  smile  which 
brought  Roy  to  her  face  again. 

"  Content  you,  it  is  work  for  me,"  she 
answered  and  was  gone. 

Once  outside,  Eileen  called  to  a  passing 
soldier,  assuming  that  look  of  dignity  which 
she  knew  how  to  wear  ;  for  did  she  not  come 
of  a  race  which  held  itself  sovereign  among  its 
Ulster  hills  ? 

"  Where  is  General  Ireton  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Even  now  returning  from  the  patrol,  Mis- 
tress," answered  the  man  with  a  touch  of  curi- 
osity in  his  blunt  respect. 

"  Bring  me  where  I  may  soonest  meet  with 
him,  the  matter  is  urgent,"  commanded  Eileen. 

322 


A  IVomatCs  Witness 


"  It  will  be  his  will  that  there  be  no  delay,"  she 
added.     "  Fear  not,  I  will  be  your  warranty." 

Speaking,  she  smiled  faintly  to  herself  at 
thought  of  how  but  yesternight  she  had  been 
a  helpless  prisoner  in  this  same  camp. 

When  Ireton,  galloping  back  to  his  quarters, 
came  in  sight  of  a  girl's  slight  figure  waiting 
him  beside  a  soldier,  he  drew  rein  with  some- 
thing of  suspicion  in  his  quick  scrutiny.  But 
at  her  eager,  yet  hesitant  request  for  a  mo- 
ment's speech  with  him,  he  waved  back  his  two 
or  three  companions  and  dismounted  at  her  side. 

"  Do  you  come  to  me  from  your  husband ; 
how  fares  he,  Mistress  Standish  ?  " 

"  He  mends,  sir,"  she  answered,  "  and  I  do 
come  in  some  sort  from  him,  at  least  I  come 
with  his  knowledge  and  consent.  But,  Sir,  I 
have  information  to  give  of  which  he  knows 
nothing  and  which  doth  concern  your  own 
officer,  Cornet  Strong.  I  will  pray  of  your 
courtesy  that  you  furnish  me  with  escort  to 
the  Lord  General." 

Ireton's  brows  had  drawn  together. 

"  It  is  a  grave  and  grievous  matter,"  he  said. 
u  Bethink  you,  Mistress  Standish,  that  the 
full  truth  will  be  sought  for  at  the  trial.  It 
were  scarce  well  that  the  matter  should  be  in 
any  fashion  prejudged." 
323 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

Eileen  looked  startled,  having  a  sudden  sense 
of  the  iron  formalism  of  an  army. 

"  But,"  she  protested,  "  that  which  I  have  to 
say — Sir,  I  cannot  explain — but  in  very  truth 
it  is  most  needful  that  I  go  unto  Sir  Thomas 
Fairfax,  or — "  she  forced  herself  to  the  dreaded 
name,  "  to  General  Cromwell." 

"  I  will  myself  be  your  escort,"  said  Ireton 
with  decision.  "  I  think  at  this  present  we  shall 
find  them  together,  taking  counsel  how  to  dis- 
pose of  the  countryfolk  which  do  flock  in  thou- 
sands to  our  Army.  Prince  Rupert  will  find 
that  he  hath  more  than  our  enrolled  forces 
against  him." 

With  the  last  words  he  shot  a  swift,  search- 
ing glance  at  his  companion.  But  Eileen's  face 
remained  unmoved.  She  had  worked  for  Roy, 
not  for  King  or  Cause,  and  her  thought  was 
not  on  Bristol  and  the  last  stand  of  its  defend- 
ers, but  on  her  husband's  face  as  he  had  bidden 
her  farewell. 

As  if  satisfied  by  the  result  of  his  test,  Ireton 
turned  aside  to  give  a  few  sharp  orders  and 
then  prepared  to  lead  Mistress  Standish  to  the 
Generals. 

When  Eileen,  born  of  the  race  of  the  O'Neil's, 
found  herself  in  the  presence  of  the  three 
Puritan  leaders,  she  was  stirred  by  a  swift  re- 

324 


A  Woman  s  Witness 


bellion  against  these  rebels.  She  stood  aside 
while  Ireton  briefly  explained  the  cause  of  her 
presence  there.  Had  those  Generals  been 
Cavaliers  even  in  their  later,  impoverished 
days,  some  touch  of  outward  pomp  or  grace 
would  scarce  have  been  wanting.  Here  there 
was  nothing  of  all  that,  merely  soldiership  and 
stark  manhood.  Eileen's  eyes  turned  from 
Cromwell,  who  looked  lowering  and  truculent, 
and  fixed  themselves  on  Fairfax's  fine,  worn 
face.  Sir  Thomas  was  still  young,  but  he  bore 
marks  of  the  scathe  and  stress  of  war.  As  Ire- 
ton  ended  his  curt  sentences,  the  Lord  Gen- 
eral turned  to  the  girl  with  a  very  winning 
courtesy. 

"  You  will  be  seated,  Mistress  Standish,"  he 
said,  rising  himself  from  his  high  backed  chair 
and  motioning  her  to  a  seat  near  by.  "  This  is 
indeed  a  strange  errand  which  brings  you  to 
us.  What  is  it  that  you  would  reveal  ?  Nay, 
do  not  go,"  and  he  turned  quickly  to  Ireton, 
"  the  matter  concerns  you  nearly." 

"  So  nearly,"  confessed  Ireton,  "  that  I  am 
no  fitting  judge,  your  Excellency.  I  value 
Captain  Standish." 

"And  it  was  for  you,"  Cromwell's  harsh 
voice  dominated  the  talk  as  he  fixed  hostile 
eyes  on  Eileen,  "  for  your  sake  that  these  two 

325 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

officers  met  in  a  dispute  which  is  like  to  cost 
us  one  life  if  not  two.     Good  soldiers,  both." 

Eileen  lifted  her  head  with  a  flash  of  resent- 
ment. 

"  Captain  Standish  protected  me,  his  wife," 
she  averred.  "  Your  Excellency,"  and  she  ad- 
dressed herself  to  Fairfax,  "  that  -which  I  would 
reveal  to  you — "  she  hesitated,  the  story  was 
not  so  easy  to  tell.  Suddenly  she  came  to  her 
decision.  "  Sir,  I  am  about,  because  of  great 
need,  to  break  a  trust  reposed  in  me.  I  pray 
you,  therefore,  that  I  may  be  open  in  my  deal- 
ings and  bear  my  witness  in  the  very  presence 
of  Cornet  Strong.  Will  you  vouchsafe  to  com- 
mand your  prisoner's  attendance  ?  " 

She  spoke  so  earnestly  and  with  so  clear  a 
purpose  that  the  General  did  not  put  aside  her 
request. 

"  It  would  be  but  informal  justice,"  he  said 
with  a  half  smile. 

"  Sir,"  interposed  Cromwell  with  a  touch  of 
ill-subdued  impatience,  "  assuredly  we  are 
enough  and  of  sufficing  authority,  through 
God's  appointment  and  despite  my  own  un- 
worthiness,  to  serve  as  a  drumhead  court- 
martial.  Let  us  therefore,  if  it  be  your  pleas- 
ure, sift  the  matter  briefly,  that  I  may  know 

326 


A  IVomaris  Witness 


whether  I  have  lost  a  soldier  which  did  once 
save  more  than  my  poor  life." 

He  lifted  his  hand,  pointing  from  the  case- 
ment with  a  forceful  gesture,  "  Rupert  is  not 
yet  crushed." 

"  Be  it  as  you  think  well,"  answered  Fairfax, 
addressing  his  officer,  but  with  his  eyes  on  the 
girl  suppliant.  A  soldier  entering  at  his  sum- 
mons took  his  order  and  retired.  Followed  a 
long  pause  of  silence,  while  Eileen's  glance 
wandered  from  one  to  another  of  her  judges, 
and  she  wished  that  Cromwell  would  not  scan 
her  so  steadily.  Unconsciously  in  the  heavy 
suspense  her  hand  slipped  to  her  breast  and 
she  half  drew  forth,  and  then  pressed  hastily 
into  hiding,  the  tiny  rosary  she  carried. 

"Idols  of  gold  and  silver,"  said  Cromwell 
half  aloud,  "they  that  make  them  are  like 
unto  them." 

"General,  you  discompose  our  guest,"  said 
Fairfax  gently.  And  Eileen  at  the  last  kindly 
spoken  word  felt  that  she  had  a  friend  among 
her  inquisitors. 

And  even  as  she  took  courage  at  the  assur- 
ance, two  soldiers  appeared  at  the  door  and 
guarded  between  them  Cornet  Strong. 

He  stood  before  his  Generals  without  salute 
327 


Cornet  Strong  of  Ire  tons  Horse 

or  sign  of  recognition,  gazing  at  them  dumbly 
across  immeasurable  distances  of  pain. 

Fairfax  signed  dismissal  to  the  soldiers  and 
bade  Strong  advance.  He  stepped  forward 
mechanically,  and  then  as  his  eyes  caught  Crom- 
well's something  of  life  rose  in  them. 

"Is  he  dead?"  he  asked  slowly. 

"  No,"  answered  Fairfax,  "  yet  am  I  told  that 
the  blow  might  well  have  been  mortal " 

"It  was  so  meant,"  answered  Strong  un- 
moved. 

Ireton  started  forward  with  a  fierce  exclama- 
tion. 

"  This  is  defiance  and  self-condemnation,"  he 
cried. 

But  Cromwell  lifted  his  hand.  "  Suffer  him 
speak,  for  never  saw  I  God's  judgment  in  a 
mortal  face  if  it  be  not  written  in  his." 

Fairfax  alone  did  not  speak,  but  turned  on 
Eileen  Standish  a  look  of  encouragement  and 
command. 

She  rose  from  her  place  and  stepped  forward. 

"  Sirs,"  she  said  gravely,  "  this  matter  may 
not  be  judged  as  ye  think  because —  " 

At  sound  of  her  clear,  young  voice  Strong 
had  started  and  turned  to  her. 

"  Woman,"  he  cried  in  a  sombre  passion  and 
forgetful  of  all  things  save  that  they  two  stood 

328 


A  Woman  s  Witness 


together,  "  woman,  on  thy  head  lies  the  blood 
of  my  son." 

The  silence  that  followed  recalled  him  to  him- 
self like  speech.  He  drew  himself  erect  and 
faced  them  all. 

"It  was  laid  upon  me,"  he  said  calmly, 
"even  as  upon  the  prophet  of  old.  At  the 
word  of  God  I  smote  down  my  firstborn  and 
the  child  I  had  vowed  to  His  service.  It  was 
God's  will  and  I  praise  Him  that  He  withholds 
not  from  me  after  that  deed,  the  fire  of  Hell." 

Not  one  of  the  three  men  who  heard  found 
word  for  answer  or  for  judgment.  It  was  a 
girl's  shuddering  voice  which  cleft  the  stillness. 

"  Mother  of  God  !  "  cried  Eileen  Standish, 
"  And  you  that  were  made  a  woman !  " 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretons  Horse 


XXV 

The  Order  of  Release 


WITH    a    fierce,    betraying  gesture. 
Cornet  Strong  brought   one  arm 
across  breastplate  and  breast  and 
so  stood,  cowering  like  one  struck 
suddenly    naked     and     ashamed. 
The  dragging  hush  was  broken  by  Fairfax's 
voice  in  a  question  simple  by  very  force  of  his 
amaze. 

"  Is  this  true  ?  "  he  asked. 
And  it  was  Cromwell  who  answered. 
"  The  truth  is  written  there." 
The  sound  of  voices  roused  Strong  from  that 
daze   of   dread.     With    a  shudder  the  soldier 
drew  erect,  a  martial  figure  confronting,  defy- 
ing them  all. 

"I  am  Deborah  Strong,"  came  the  level 
tones,  "who  seeing  Reuben,  my  husband,  struck 
down  at  my  side,  even  in  the  hour  of  his  con- 

330 


"'I    AM    DEBORAH    STRONG/    CAME    IN    LEVEL   TONES. 


The  Order  of  Release 


secration  to  the  Cause,  and  deeming  my  son 
dead  which  should  have  carried  on  the  work, 
did  myself  redeem  the  vow  of  my  household. 
It  was  the  voice  of  God  which  spoke  to  me, 
even  as  to  Jael  and  Judith  of  old ;  and  let  God 
bear  witness  against  me  if  I  have  wielded  the 
sword  amiss  in  His  Cause." 

She  spoke  without  passion,  with  such  utter 
simplicity  of  affirmation,  that  it  was  the  leaders, 
the  Generals  of  the  Army  who  were  silenced 
and  abashed  before  her.  It  was  a  woman's 
arraignment  which  answered  to  the  woman's 
defence. 

"And  your  son?"  cried  Eileen  Standish. 
"  Oh,  you  are  cruel  as  the  God  you  worship." 

Deborah  Strong  put  from  her  the  girl-wife's 
protest  as  a  thing  too  slight  for  answer.  She 
looked  instead  to  her  leaders. 

"  And  of  what  avail  now  that  ye  should 
know  the  truth  ?    Am  I  not  still  your  soldier?" 

She  was  claiming  death  in  the  words,  and  one 
of  her  judges  stood  ready  to  second  the  claim. 

"  In  truth,"  cried  Henry  Ireton  sternly,  "  if 
a  woman  play  a  man's  part  in  battle,  may  she 
not  endure  the  stroke  of  the  sword  ?  And  shall 
the  sword  of  Justice  be  turned  aside?" 

"  Nay,  but  to  look  on  it  so  were  barbarous. 
331 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

She  is  still  a  woman,"  cried  Sir  Thomas  Fair- 
fax with  quick,  uncomprehending  mercy. 

Cromwell  alone  did  not  speak.  He  sat 
watching  Deborah  Strong  with  profound  eyes, 
not  as  man  looks  on  woman,  nor  soldier  upon 
soldier,  but  as  a  soul  acquainted  with  conflict 
looks  on  a  fellow  soul. 

"If  life  be  given  you  and  you  quit  the 
Army — "  began  Fairfax  anew. 

Cornet  Strong  faced  him  with  a  look  of  deso- 
late scorn. 

"  Will  you  give  me  back  my  womanhood  ?  " 

And  then  as  none  answered  she  spoke  on 
more  wildly,  "  What  will  ye  do  with  me,  you 
which  are  Captains  in  the  hosts  of  the  Lord  ? 
Will  you  set  me  back  overseas  by  a  hearth 
laid  waste  ?  Will  you  put  my  son  at  my 
side,  my  son  which  knows  me  as  a  soldier 
in  the  ranks,  my  son  which  I  struck  down  even 
as  a  sacrifice  ?  What  will  you  give  me,  Captains 
and  Rulers  of  the  People,  when  you  have  smit- 
ten from  my  hand  the  sword  which  God  bade 
me  draw  ?  " 

As  Deborah  Strong  cried  out  to  them  from 
her  soldier  life  and  her  woman  life  alike  laid 
in  ruins  about  her,  it  was  Oliver  Cromwell  who 
stepped  forth  to  answer. 

"  Sir,"  he  said  addressing  the  Lord  General, 
332 


The  Order  of  Release 


"  assuredly  women  have  served  the  Lord's  will 
in  strange  ways,  even  as  Deborah  the  Prophet- 
ess which  dwelt  under  the  palm  tree  between 
Ramah  and  Beth-el  and  as  Jael  which  smote 
down  the  oppressor  of  Israel.  Let  us  not  seek 
to  measure  the  Lord's  unsearchable  will  by  our 
understanding." 

"  You  would  not  have  her  serve  longer  in 
our  forces,"  cried  Fairfax  with  a  sternness  bred 
of  his  very  chivalry.  "Nay,  and  were  it  so, 
how  should  she  escape  the  doom  of  her  act  ?  " 

"Your  Excellency,"  cried  Eileen,  drawing 
nearer,  "  even  without  knowing  aught  of  what 
has  been  here  made  plain,  my  husband  would 
have  given  all  things  to  save  his  comrade. 
Therefore  it  was,  I  came  to  break  the  trust 
reposed  in  me.  Moreover,  that  blow  was 
struck  in  the  sure  belief  that  betrayal  threat- 
ened your  Cause.  Cornet  Strong  knew  me 
not  as  Captain  Standish's  wife." 

"  Let  it  be  pardon  and  forgetfulness  then," 
said  Sir  Thomas  Fairfax,  "  but,"  his  eyes  dwelt 
in  troubled  musing  on  the  soldier  form  and 
stricken  face  of  the  woman  who  had  not  asked 
for  life. 

"And  grant  me  this  much,"  said  Cromwell 
as  he  stepped  across  and  stood  beside  his 
trooper,  "grant   me    the    service   of    Cornet 

333 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  re  tons  Horse 

Strong  for  a  brief  space  longer  until  this  last 
stronghold  of  our  enemies  be  fallen.  There- 
after many  may  be  content  to  lay  aside  their 
weapons.  Sirs,"  as  he  saw  Fairfax  waver,  his 
voice  rolled  out  deep  and  shaken,  u  this  much 
may  well  be  yielded.  But  for  the  word  borne 
me  by  a  woman  I  had  not  fought  in  your 
ranks  at  Naseby." 

There  was  scarce  need  for  the  consent  to  be 
spoken  in  words.  Deborah  Strong  read  it  in 
the  faces  bent  on  her,  and  for  the  first  time 
she  trembled. 

"I,  even  I,  will  sing  unto  the  Lord,"  she 
spoke  softly,  "I  will  sing  praises  to  the  Lord 
God  of  Israel." 

She  turned  to  pass  out  from  that  strange 
and  secret  chamber  of  judgment  and  her  eyes 
met  those  of  Eileen  Standish. 

"May  God  pardon  thee  thy  pity,"  she  said. 

The  sun  mounted  above  the  forts  and  guns 
and  enmeshing  waters  of  Bristol  The  Army 
of  the  Parliament  girded  itself  in  readiness, 
and  still  Captain  Nathan  Standish  and  Cornet 
Strong  of  Ireton's  Horse  were  absent  from 
their  posts.  Lieutenant  Flynt  fulfilled  what 
he  could  of  their  duties  with  a  mind  full  of  un- 
satisfied surmise.      And  Eileen  Standish,   put 

334 


The  Order  of  Release 


from  her  husband's  side  by  a  new,  imperious 
claim,  smiled  and  sighed  over  her  song  of  the 
forded  River. 

Inside  the  soldier's  hut,  Mother  and  son  were 
together.  Deborah  Strong  sat  on  the  low 
camp  bed,  her  figure  half  shrouded  in  its  long, 
dark  cloak.  And  Standish  paced  brokenly  up 
and  down  or  paused  at  the  Cornet's  side,  a  be- 
wilderment of  wistfulness  and  acceptance  in 
his  look.  Deborah  Strong  watched  him 
with  a  travailing  joy.  In  that  hour  her  son 
had  been  given  to  her  again  out  of  death  and 
severance  and  a  shadow  that  lay  darker  than 
theirs.  Given  to  her :  but  was  he  hers  indeed? 
She  was  free  for  the  word,  the  glance,  the 
touch  for  which  her  soul  had  hungered,  and 
fulfillment  ached  in  her  like  famine.  Another 
stood  still  between  them,  the  ghost  of  her 
soldier  self.  And  Nathan  Standish  missed  his 
brother-in-arms  in  the  Mother  he  had  been  too 
orphaned  to  miss. 

So  the  words  came  falteringly  between  them, 
broken  with  the  weight  of  unuttered  mean- 
ings, and  Standish  struggled  vainly  to  feel  this 
strange,  new  tie  which  bound  them,  to  under- 
stand all  the  madness  and  the  sacrifice  and  the 
consummation  gathered  up  in  this  hour.  Then 
as  Deborah  Strong  followed  her  son  with  eyes 

335 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

which  dared  confess  at  last  a  woman's  need 
and  longing,  the  wandering  notes  of  a  song 
drifted  to  them  from  without. 

"  They  have  met,  the  living  and  the  dead," 
sang  Eileen  Standish.  The  voice  of  the  Irish 
maiden,  the  Papist,  whom  she  had  doubted  and 
withstood,  struck  suddenly  home  to  Deborah 
Strong. 

"And  am  I  not  dead  to  thee,  my  son  ?"  she 
cried,  "  yea,  as  though  I  lay  beyond  seas,  be- 
neath our  fallen  roof  tree,  where  the  snows 
and  the  dead  leaves  gather  for  thine  inherit- 
ance ?  " 

"No,"  cried  Nathan  Standish,  "no,  Mother," 
he  dropped  to  his  knees  at  her  side,  "  for  we 
will  build  the  roof  tree  anew  and  kindle  the 
hearth.  Forgive  me  my  blindness  and  put 
away  this  steel  which  sunders  us." 

He  laid  a  hand  on  the  breastplate  she  still 
wore,  and  with  the  touch,  the  pride  of  soldier- 
ship fell  away  from  Deborah  Strong.  With  a 
sobbing  cry  she  bent  forward,  laying  both 
hands  on  her  son's  hair  in  blessing,  in  posses- 
sion, in  the  merest  woman's  caress. 

"  Nathan,  my  son,"  she  cried,  "  think  you 
it  was  never  hard  to  gird  my  woman's  weakness 
to  this  work  ?  God  knoweth,  on  the  march  and 
on  the  eve  of  fight,  how  I  prayed  Him  for  the 

336 


The  Order  of  Release 


release  he  did  not  give.  And  now  I  praise  Him 
that  He  gave  it  not.  Child,  how  I  have  wearied 
and  have  hungered  even  for  this." 

Standish  looked  up  into  his  mother's  face. 

"And  you  will  be  content  to  draw  sword 
no  more  ?  "  he  pleaded.  "  See,  for  a  sign  your 
hand  is  wounded  even  now."  And  he  pointed 
to  a  gash  across  Deborah  Strong's  right  palm. 

"  For  I  grasped  the  blade  of  my  sword  when 
I  smote  thee  down,"  she  said  and  shrank  from 
the  troubled  gentleness  in  his  eyes. 

"It  is  thy  father's  look,"  she  cried.  "Must 
even  the  dead  accuse  me  ?  Yet  I  smote  in  the 
Name  of  the  Lord." 

"  Be  that  forgotten,"  protested  Nathan 
Standish.  "  You  knew  not  that  Eileen  was  my 
wife.  But  now,  surely  now,  one  home  awaits 
us  all." 

Deborah  Strong  rose  to  her  feet  and  looked 
long  into  her  son's  eyes. 

"  Thy  wife,"  she  repeated,  "  thy  wife  who 
hath  never  swerved  from  her  woman's  way. 
Surely  I  thought  that  I  could  find  the  back- 
ward path — but  now — And  the  swords  shall  be 
beaten  into  ploughshares.  How  shall  the  iron 
endure  that,  which  hath  been  steel  ?  " 

She  turned  blindly  to  the  door,  to  freedom, 
loneliness  and  the  soldier  life,  which  clamoured 
v  337 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

from  drums  and  bugles  and  the  countless 
marching  feet.  On  the  threshold  a  figure  con- 
fronted her. 

"  The  corporal  bore  our  colours  to-day,"  said 
Lieutenant  Flynt.  "  Now  am  I  commanded  to 
deliver  them  to  you  again." 

He  eyed  his  broth  er-in-arms  sharply  as  he 
lowered  the  black  and  buff  flag  he  held. 

"  What  is  amiss  ?  "  he  asked  with  an  approach 
to  human  interest  in  his  curiosity. 

"I  have  looked  on  Death  and  Life,"  an- 
swered Cornet  Strong. 

Flynt  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Enigmas,"  he  answered.  "  Of  Life  I  learn 
little  for  all  my  researches,  but  Death  at  least 
is  'a  moderator  and  equal  piece  of  Justice '  for 
all." 

He  turned  away  and  left  Cornet  Strong  erect 
in  the  doorway,  the  flag  drooping  in  her  hand. 
She  bent  on  her  son  a  look  of  triumphant 
renunciation. 

"  It  is  God's  call,"  she  affirmed.  "  The  Lord 
make  His  face  to  shine  upon  thee." 

And  as  the  soldier  passed  away  from  his 
sight,  Nathan  Standish  sprang  forward  with  a 
strangling  cry,  a  sudden  rush  of  outreaching 
love  to  the  Mother  he  could  not  hold. 

338 


The  Order  of  Release 


General  Cromwell  did  not  forget  the  service 
he  had  claimed.  Before  that  warring  week 
was  ended,  he  summoned  Cornet  Strong  to  his 
quarters,  where  he  sat  bending  over  a  map. 

"  I  must  have  a  sure  and  speedy  messenger," 
he  began  abruptly,  "  to  bring  me  word  from 
the  Scots'  Army  at  Gloucester.  It  would  scarce 
be  work  for  an  officer  busied  with  his  troop — 
but  for  you?" 

He  kept  his  searching  grey  eyes  on  the 
Cornet  as  he  spoke.  "  Shall  I  lay  the  task  on 
you  ?     It  may  prove  a  perilous  one." 

"  Trust  it  to  me,  General,"  answered  Cornet 
Strong.     And  Cromwell  assented  briefly. 

"I  have  known  you  ride  to  good  purpose 
before.     God  go  with  you." 

Cornet  Strong  rode  forth  on  that  last  mission 
of  her  soldier  life,  putting  from  her  all  unrest 
and  striving  of  the  spirit.  There  was  work 
still  to  be  done.  The  sword  was  not  yet  beaten 
into  the  ploughshare,  and  it  must  be  keen  to 
the  end.  Swiftly  she  rode  and  safely  across 
the  war-swept  country.  There  were  fewer 
Royalist  foraging  parties  now;  the  Cavaliers 
were  lurking  in  their  garrisons,  desperate  in  a 
defence  which  foreknew  itself  vain.  So  the 
lonely  rider  went  unchallenged,  and  drew  rein 
at  the  outposts  of  the  Scottish  Army  to  deliver 

339 


Cornet  Strong  of  Iretoris  Horse 

and  receive  her  despatches.  Peaceful  almost 
was  this  last  soldier  work,  when  Deborah  Strong 
could  have  sought  the  fierce  sanctuary  of 
battle. 

As  she  turned  for  that  long  ride  back  to 
Bristol,  she  saw  little  of  the  day  which  sank  in 
a  flare  of  turbulent  colour,  and  of  the  night 
which  deepened  and  flung  wide  its  stars.  There 
before  her  lay  Bristol,  there  was  the  Parliament 
Army  and  her  son.  Warring  visions  rose  be- 
fore her  of  a  Western  home  reclaimed,  of  life 
builded  anew,  of  the  child,  the  babe  she  had 
borne  and  lost  and  found  again,  so  hidden,  so 
estranged  in  the  fellow  soldier.  And  then 
across  such  dreams  of  past  and  future  recon- 
ciled, throbbed  a  memory  of  marching  troops, 
the  drum  roll,  the  long  reverberant  calling  of 
the  trumpet.  Watch  fires  flashed  on  a  long 
slant  of  serried  steel,  and  she  heard  in  spirit 
that  deep  and  terrible  thanksgiving  which 
pealed  up  from  the  Ironsides  on  the  eve  of  on- 
set. There  had  been  her  place,  her  portion 
among  the  soldiers  risen  to  attest  God's  work 
on  earth,  among  the  ranks  of  the  living,  the 
ranks  of  the  dead,  the  militant  spirits  which 
had  marched  through  death  triumphant. 

Suddenly  through  her  passionate  allegiance 
340 


The  Order  of  Release 


to  the  Cause  and  its  soldiers,  rose  the  picture 
of  one  soldier,  her  son. 

"  It  is  farewell  to  my  comrade,"  he  had  said 
when  she  mounted  and  rode  forth.  "When 
you  return  it  will  be  welcome  and  for  always 
to  my  Mother." 

Her  portion — what  was  a  woman's  portion 
but  that,  the  man  child  she  had  fashioned  and 
given  life  to  in  the  birth  throes.  Hers  with  a 
closeness  which  no  comradeship  of  soldier  and 
soldier,  of  man  and  wife  dared  deny. 

In  that  hour  of  affirmation  beneath  God's 
witnessing  sky,  Deborah  Strong  felt  her  hardly- 
achieved  and  sternly-worn  soldiership  drop  from 
her.  She  reached  out  in  spirit  to  the  pangs  of 
renewed  motherhood,  a  fresh  giving  and  shap- 
ing of  life.  Surely  the  days  to  come  should 
restore  the  womanhood  which  she  had  scorned 
and  cast  from  her. 

And  as  she  rode,  far  across  the  dark  downs 
ahead,  nickered  a  changing  glow  like  the  re- 
kindling of  the  sunset  embers.  About  Bristol 
were  circling  the  flash  and  thunder  of  the  ord- 
nance and  the  encroaching  clangours  of  assault. 
The  Royalists  were  locked  in  a  death  grip  with 
their  out-numbering,  prevailing  foes,  and  here 
and  there  above  the  town  the  flames  were 
beaconing  the  Puritans'  triumph. 

341 


Cornet  Strong  of  I  ret  oris  Horse 

But  where  Cornet  Strong  rode  across  the 
lonely  heath  drenched  in  night^shadow,  only  a 
dull  glow  in  the  sky,  only  a  pulsing  murmur 
in  the  distance  told  of  the  Royalists'  last  de- 
fiance. And  of  all  that  Deborah  Strong  recked 
nothing.  Her  thoughts  had  wandered  to  the 
wide  forests  overseas,  and  the  sweep  of  a  wood- 
land fire  among  them  was  as  near  to  her  as 
this  confronting  battle  of  the  Cause.  Woman 
and  soldier,  betraying,  subduing  each  other,  so 
she  rode  locked  away  from  all  the  assailings  of 
the  present. 

As  she  topped  Durdham  Down,  she  might 
have  seen  the  lines  on  fines  of  Puritan  Horse 
grimly  awaiting  some  possible  attempt  of  Royal- 
ist flight,  a  flight  none  dreamed  of  essaying 
who  followed  Rupert,  Cornet  Strong  rode 
straight  forward  unseeing.  Dimly  the  soldier 
in  her  was  aware  that  she  was  nearing  her  own 
forces,  that  her  mission  was  done.  And  now 
the  dull  tumult  of  the  battle  surged  up  to  those 
dark  heights,  and  all  the  triumphs  of  the  Iron- 
sides were  beckoning  again. 

u  Who  goes  there  ?  " 

The  challenge  rang  out  from  one  of  the  out- 
posts of  Ire  ton's  regiment.  But  there  came 
no  answering  call.  Deborah  Strong  had  rid- 
den on  strange  roads  that  night,  and  all  her 

342 


The  Order  of  Release 


martial  vigilance  had  been  stunned  by  one  im- 
perious and  avenging  passion. 

"  Who  goes  ?"  repeated  the  picket  with  lifted 
carbine.  Sharp  upon  the  demand  flashed  out 
the  arresting  shot.  And  still,  in  an  ended 
service,  while  the  distant  volleys  beat  muffled 
through  the  darkness,  lay  Cornet  Strong  of 
Ireton's  Horse. 


RUPERT  BY  THE  GRACE  OF  GOD: 

The  Story  of  an  unrecorded  plot  set  forth  by  Will  Fortescue 
EDITED  BY  DORA  GREENWELL  McCHESNEY 

"  The  reader  will  rapidly  find  his  attention  absorbed  by  a  really 
stirring  picture  of  stirring  times.  Miss  McChesney  has  a  marked 
gift  for  the  writing  of  picturesque  narrative.  Her  descriptions,  both  of 
men  and  deeds,  are  simple,  vigorous  and  effective  ....  well 
worth  reading." — World. 

"  There  is  much  pleasing  and  graceful  literature  in  Rupert  by  the 
Grace  of  God  ....  shows  extremely  careful  workmanship. 
The  dialogue  is  agreeable  and  never  in  excess.  The  book  may  be  re- 
garded as  a  singularly  successful  specimen  of  the  'historical '  fiction 
of  the  day." — Athenaeum. 

"  A  delightful  mingling  of  fact  and  fiction  ....  in  the  devel- 
opment of  the  story  we  get  finely  romantic  pictures  of  the  fierce  strug- 
gle between  the  two  armies,  with  occasional  vivid  glimpses  of  the 
chief  actors,  the  heroic  figure  of  Prince  Rupert  always  towering 
above  them  all  in  the  splendid  pathos  of  unavailing  valour." — Star. 

"  She  has  written  a  very  stirring  tale,  while  at  the  same  time  supply- 
ing a  graphic  picture  of  the  wild  times  in  which  Rupert  flourished." 
— Globe. 

"  The  author  loses  none  of  the  romantic  opportunities  of  the  theme, 
and  the  romance  is  true  to  history,  as  well  as  picturesque  in  present- 
ing the  character  of  the  fiery  and  dashing,  but  luckless  Prince.  The 
book  forms  an  attractive  and  interesting  story." — Scotsman. 


MIRIAM    CROMWELL    ROYALIST: 

A  Romance  of  the  Great  Rebellion 
BY  DORA  GREENWELL  McCHESNEY 

"  This  artistic  and  most  charming  romance." —  World. 

"  A  charming  and  graceful  historical  romance  full  of  human  ten- 
derness and  alive  with  human  interest.  .  .  ,  It  is  a  long  time 
since  we  have  read  such  a  delightful  romance ;  it  is  full  of  action,  and 
the  love-making  between  Prince  Rupert  and  Miriam  is  very  tender 
and  pathetic." — Queen. 

"A  crowd  of  notable  figures  appear  in  these  pages,  carefully 
touched  in,  and  the  events  recorded  are  accurately  presented." — 
Daily  News. 

"It  has  vitality,  power,  charm  and  picturesqueness." — Daily 
Chronicle. 

"  The  author  wins  our  sympathies  for  each  party  in  turn,  and  while 
the  charm  of  the  story  never  flags,  it  is  to  be  added  that,  as  a  piece 
of  literary  work,  the  book  demands  praise  for  its  finish,  and  its  sin- 
cerity and  distinction  of  manner." — Leeds  Mercury.  • 


BEATRIX   INFELIX 

BY  DORA  GREENWELL  McCHESNEY 

"  Miss  McChesney  has  in  this  unpretending  but  pleasant  little  tale 
contrived  to  succeed  where  many  more  ambitious  novelists  have  failed. 
It  may  fairly  rank  as  one  of  the  most  artistic  books  the  year  has  yet 
produced." — Saturday  Review. 

"It  is  very  clever,  very  touching." — Guardian. 

"A  clever  and  interesting  book." — Christian  World. 

"  It  is  written  in  beautiful  English  which  often  attains  a  high  level 
of  emotional  intensity ;  it  contains  conversations  on  the  natural  and 
artistic  beauties  of  Rome,  that  are  really  felicitous  and  finely  imag- 
inative."— Echo. 

"  The  author  has  mastered  her  period  thoroughly  and  tells  an  at- 
tractive story  in  a  very  winning  fashion." — Observer. 

"  The  author  writes  her  narrative  in  a  pleasant,  simple  style,  and 
so  skillfully  clothes  the  dry  bones  of  history,  that  the  interest  is  un- 
flagging to  the  end." — Manchester  Courier. 


KATHLEEN   CLARE: 

Her  Book,  1637 — 1641 

EDITED  BY  DORA  GREENWELL  McCHESNEY 

"  In  few  books  of  the  kind  published  during  recent  years  is  the 
narrative  interest  so  strong  or  so  admirably  sustained.  .  .  .  The 
closing  chapters  are  strong  and  pathetic,  all  the  more  so  because 
there  is  no  rhetoric,  no  effusion,  but  everywhere  a  fine  unobtrusive 
reticence.  Of  late  years  we  have  had  several  really  fine  historical 
stories,  and  '  Kathleen  Clare,'  after  standing  comparison  with  the 
best  of  them,  will  take  an  honourable  place." — Daily  Chronicle. 

"There  is  real  dramatic  talent  as  well  as  great  descriptive  power 
in  the  scenes  of  his  trial  and  imprisonment." — Academy. 

"A  pretty  story,  prettily  told." — Vanity  Fair. 

"  Very  pretty  and  extremely  touching ;  a  very  satisfactory  piece  of 
work." — Speaker. 


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